Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 39
Surviving the Gauntlet
Despite having taken extra care that his full Gryffindor uniform was clean and pressed, Harry had not been particularly nervous when he arrived at Tonks’ office the next morning. He had to admit, though, that Tonks’ briefing was definitely giving rise to a full battalion of armor-clad butterflies in his stomach.
It had begun with her opening statement of: “They are going to test you, you know. It won’t be like addressing Dumbledore’s Army at all; they were all familiar with who you were. These students will bombard you with personal questions.”
“I don’t have to answer them, do I?” Harry inquired tentatively.
“Not all of them, certainly,” Tonks agreed. “But you will have to give them something. Pick and choose which ones you answer and which you ignore.”
“You’re making me feel like I’m going to be under a microscope,” Harry admitted nervously.
“It’s best to be prepared. Expect the worst and hope they’re not that creative,” she advised with a wry laugh. “Would it help if I gave you examples of what I endured?”
“If you don’t mind,” Harry pleaded as the butterflies lined up for a skirmish.
“Besides the requests for specific changes to my appearance which you won’t have to face, let’s see…. There was the question about why they always saw me in the company of Professor Lupin.”
“What did you tell them?” Harry chuckled, remembering Lupin’s starry-eyed attitude about his privacy.
“Simply that we were married to one another; no other details were necessary. Naturally, that gave rise to the question about why I didn’t wear a wedding ring.”
Harry rolled his eyes in sympathy and wondered how she was going to get around that one with a minimum of details.
Tonks grinned mischievously and confided, “So I told them that there was actually a very interesting story behind that -- but that it was Professor Lupin who could really do it justice and they should ask him.”
“You didn’t!” Harry barely managed before the laughter overcame him.
“I did indeed! And then I visualized their nosy little faces hitting the brick wall!” Tonks dissolved in laughter herself.
“That was truly wicked,” Harry admitted with new admiration for her deviousness.
“You just have to out-think them,” she affirmed. “You’ll do fine, Harry. Just tell them a bit about your background with the Patronus Charm and talk them through it like you did with Neville. If no one volunteers to be your first success story, pick one at random. You’ll be able to tell by the excitement in their eyes which ones are dying to be chosen, but are too shy to actually volunteer.”
Letting his eyes wander up the staircase to the observation platform, Harry wordlessly indicated upward with a glance. Tonks nodded silently in reply. Since he knew Lupin had a class of his own at the moment, Harry surmised that it would probably be the headmistress who was in attendance. Well, he had expected no less, he sighed to himself.
In spite of the closed office door between them, he heard the first sounds of the class trooping in, punctuated by muffled laughter. Tonks gave him a quick pat on the cheek for luck and then boldly stepped through the door and strode to the front of the class. Miraculously, the lingering feeling of her touch kept the butterflies at bay.
Tonks beamed proudly at her class of first-years as she waited for them to all assume their seats. The last student obligingly shut the door to the outside corridor after catching Tonks’ signal.
“Welcome back from the holidays, class!” she intoned merrily. “I hope you’re all ready to get back to work as I have a special treat for you today. You recall that we’ve been working on and off with the Patronus Charm. Well today, I have a special student assistant who has had remarkable success with just that.
“While in his fifth year at Hogwarts, he led a study group that learned how to produce full-bodied versions of the charm, even though the administration told them that it was not possible. He went on to achieve an ‘O’ level on his O.W.L. exam by demonstrating his skill before the practical examiner. I present to you, Mr. Harry Potter.”
Harry felt the color rising to his face in response to Tonks’ recitation of his accomplishments. With a hammering heart, he willed his feet to begin the long trek to the front of the room. He passed Tonks about half-way down the aisle and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, whispering encouraging words that he was too distracted to properly comprehend.
He gazed at the ocean of upturned faces looking up at him expectantly. It really wasn’t such a large group, he thought to himself. Perhaps he could outrun them all if he got a bit of a head start, he considered wryly. But then he remembered the promise that Tonks had lovingly sealed with the chocolate soufflé and decided that he would just have to see it through.
“Good morning, class, I’m Harry. Professor Tonks asked me to come and teach you a bit about producing the Patronus Charm. I suppose a practical demonstration is in order then.”
Extracting his wand from the inner pocket of his robe, Harry caught Tonks’ eye at the back of the room and thought blissfully of the hours he had spent with her and Lupin the previous evening. The silver stag erupted from his wand even before the echo of his incantation had died out. He heard a chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” as the majestic beast cantered around the room.
“My mum says that a Patronus is very advanced magic. She doesn’t think first years can learn to do it,” volunteered a blonde girl in the third row.
“Well, I don’t agree,” Harry responded candidly. “And neither does Professor Tonks. How many of you have already succeeded in producing a corporeal Patronus?”
No hands were raised.
“How about producing the silver smoke?” Harry offered. Here a dozen hands or so appeared throughout the room. “All right, then you’ve already proven that it’s not hopeless.”
“How old were you when you learned the charm?” inquired a tiny boy in the middle of the room.
“I was in my third year. Professor Lupin taught me; he was in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes then.”
“Did he teach it to all third-years?”
“No, just to me,” Harry admitted and then told them a bit about the debilitating effects the dementors had on him that had prompted Lupin’s decision at the time. “But I don’t think any of you are too young to learn. We all have magic right here,” Harry tapped his chest. “The only difference between a first-year and a seventh-year is that I have more practice getting the magic from here,” pointing to his chest again, “to here,” pointing to his head. “And that’s just a matter of concentration. The secret is to find just the right happy memory that will unlock your Patronus.”
Tonks spoke up from the back of the room. “Mr. Potter, why don’t you tell them a bit about how you came to select the ideal memory?”
But before he could launch into the tale, a boy in the second row asked, “Why does Professor Tonks insist on calling you ‘Mr. Potter’ when you told us to just call you ‘Harry’?”
Harry took a moment to think and then replied with a smile, “That’s because I knew her before she was a teacher and it helps to remind me that I should address her properly while in this class…and because she will deduct points from Gryffindor if I forget!”
At the sound of laughter around him, Harry felt as if he’d finally passed muster. With renewed confidence, he explained about the image that he had finally chosen because it was so strong even though it was bittersweet. “But to call up that particular memory, I had to concentrate on exactly how I felt at the time. The magic mirror was stored in an unused classroom, so there was peculiar creepy feeling created by the shadows of the desks piled against the walls. The dampness and cold of the flagstones would seep through my trainers and travel right up my legs, especially if I was sitting, until it felt like I was carved of ice. There was a unique dusty odor in the air, like I imagined powdered granite would smell since the room was not heavily traveled.” He paused for effect, then added, “Create the details of your surroundings and the feelings from the memory will fill up your heart like warm sand. Cast the incantation when you feel that your heart is full.”
Seeing that the faces were all looking at him raptly, Harry ventured, “Now who wants to try the technique first?”
As he’d expected, no one wanted to be the first. Once he achieved his initial success, they would be tumbling all over themselves, but there was just too much risk involved in being first. Harry looked over the crowd, trying to remember which faces had looked the dreamiest when he had detailed the procedure.
He was distracted by an insistent voice from the back. “Will you deduct house points if we don’t participate?”
Harry had been waiting for this one ever since he had said that Tonks would do just that to him. With a mischievous smile, he returned, “I don’t really have the authority to do that. But you know, I have a friend who always says that house points are for amateurs.”
“Oooh, that’s Ginny Weasley that says that,” came the confident statement from his left, but he was not quick enough to see from whom.
Feeling a bit like a drowning man, Harry selected a long-haired girl from the front row whose self-confident expression reminded him of Hermione at that age. He thought she had been one of those who had previously indicated success with producing the silver smoke. She whispered that her name was Leah and he whispered back that he was counting on her to make him look good. Solemnly, she looked up at him with round, blue eyes and nodded that she understood.
“Now tell me, Leah, did you have a good holiday? Lots of happy memories?” he began, trying to flesh her out.
“Yes, but I think I want to use a memory from a few years before,” she volunteered with aplomb. “From when my grandmother was still alive and she made the most delicious turkey at holidays.”
Harry suggested that she hold her wand in preparation for just the right moment and double-checked that she knew the proper words. Then little by little, he led her through the process of feeling the starched sheets against her arms as she woke up on a snowy, but bright, Christmas morning. The redolent smell of ginger that still lingered on the napkin by her bedside that had held cookies the night before. The heavy feeling that she had in her legs as she buried them deeper into the warm bed while she debated whether she wanted to just go back to sleep. The floating feeling that she got just as she was drifting off only to be awakened gradually by the most tantalizing aroma of all: the first whiffs of roasting holiday turkey. A smell that meant her grandmother had arrived and was busy at work in the kitchen below. As she ran down the stairs, the smell grew stronger until she burst into the kitchen, her momentum to be arrested by a huge grandmotherly hug.
“Now,” he whispered into Leah’s ear.
Leah’s eyes were still screwed tight with the power of the memory as she raised her wand and whispered, “Expecto Patronum.”
The bright silver smoke appeared almost immediately but did not congeal into a distinct shape.
“Think about how the turkey tasted on your lips, the first taste that your grandmother gave you from the pan. Now do the incantation a bit louder.”
“Expecto Patronum!” intoned Leah with obvious gusto.
Harry lightly touched Leah’s shoulder so that she would open her eyes and behold the smoke swirling purposefully until it became a twittering canary, flitting from desk to desk to disappear among the rafters. Harry vaguely remembered the class breaking into cheers and applause as Leah grabbed him in a huge bear hug around the middle.
Laughing with joy, Harry referred Leah to a beaming Tonks so that she could make note of the shape of her Patronus for the register.
As predicated, everyone wanted to be next. Harry took a moment to address the class once he got the excitement level under control. “I’ll be glad to help you one by one if that’s what you wish. But there’s only one of me and twenty or thirty of you. You can do this technique on your own, walk yourself through all the steps. I believe I can convince Professor Tonks to award extra house points to any first-year who manages to produce a corporeal Patronus without my assistance.”
“Absolutely,” Tonks announced from the back of the room. “As a matter of fact, class time is almost over so let’s make that an assignment for next time. Practice in your room, in the courtyard, wherever you feel that your powers of concentration are at their peak. Helping each other is allowed and encouraged, and I’ll still give you the full amount of points if it’s a group effort. It’s worth twenty-five extra points to anyone that can do this without Harry’s assistance. And Leah, dear, I’m awarding you the twenty-five points as well for being brave enough to succeed first. Class dismissed!”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry joined Tonks in the small anteroom to await the descent of Professor McGonagall. The headmistress was wreathed in smiles as she made her way regally down the steep stairs.
“Very good show, Harry,” the headmistress complimented him. “Absolutely inspired. Tell me how you do it.”
“I just talk to them on their level,” Harry answered modestly. “Try to squeeze in between the cracks to pry out the memory.”
“Answer me this then, Harry: what memory did you invoke to produce your Patronus in front of the O.W.L. examiner?” McGonagall prodded. “I remember watching from above and you were so utterly calm and confident.”
“Promise that it will go no further than this room,” Harry pleaded. “Although I will allow that Tonks can retell the story to Professor Lupin.”
Eager nods from both Tonks and McGonagall followed.
“I envisioned Dolores Umbridge being sacked and tossed into the courtyard with her luggage; the sound of those vile kitten plates shattering created the most delightful backdrop.” Harry tried for a serene smile, but suspected that it probably came out with more wickedness than he intended.
Tonks laughed outright, while McGonagall did her best to hide her smile behind her hand. On the way out the door, the headmistress patted Harry’s shoulder in an affectionate manner and whispered, “Fifty points to Gryffindor!”
“So, Harry, do you feel up to taking on my third-year class this afternoon?” Tonks proposed with a twinkle in her eye.
“I guess it all depends on the time,” Harry acquiesced. “I’m scheduled with Remus at two.”
“My class starts at one, but I can let Remus know that you’ll be a bit late. You know that he schedules your appointments as his last item of the day so he can let them run over if the mood strikes him -- which it generally does.”
“If you’re sure it won’t be a problem. How far have you progressed with the third-years?” Harry asked, focusing his sights on the task ahead.
“When we left for the holidays, all of them had been able to produce the silver smoke Patronuses, but none had achieved a corporeal one. They were assigned to practice while on school grounds, so if any of them actually remembered to do so, we may already have some success stories there. As far as the content of your lesson, though, you shouldn’t need to alter it significantly from what you did for the first-years,” Tonks advised. “But I will warn you, the questioning is likely to get a lot tougher. The first-years let you off rather easily.”
“I’m up to the challenge.”
Harry recognized many of the faces from Tonks first-year class when he arrived in the Great Hall for a quick lunch. Aware that his time was limited, he settled down at the Gryffindor table next to Neville and concentrated wholeheartedly on his food. It wasn’t long before he felt a presence at his elbow, though. He turned to find Leah, flanked by a small group of other girls. He recognized her Gryffindor tie and wondered why he hadn’t noticed this before.
“Harry, will you be back to teach us again?” Leah implored. “I “ well, actually all of us “ want to know what happened to the magic mirror that you told us about.”
Harry smiled before replying, “In his wisdom, Professor Dumbledore “ he was headmaster before Professor McGonagall “ removed it to where it would no longer be a temptation to anyone. The image in the mirror represented an ideal, not reality. By spending too much time gazing longingly into its depths, the mirror kept us from actually going out to experience life for ourselves and finding true happiness.”
Before any of the others could ask follow-up questions, he added, “I’m sure I’ll be back to work with your class some more, but for now I have to face the third-years. Professor Tonks warned me that they are reputed to take no prisoners.”
He left the girls giggling as he made his way back to the Dark Arts classroom.
Tonks had been right; the third-years were a lot more adept at interrogation. Leave them a bit of an opening and one of them would go straight for the throat. Harry was determined not to let them see when he was caught short but they seemed to have a sixth sense about it.
After having established for themselves that Harry had known Tonks when she was single, a tall boy in the back asked, “Can you tell us any funny stories about Professor Tonks?”
Harry resolved to not let the boy’s smug expression unnerve him but a glance towards Tonks showed her obvious amusement at his predicament. Thinking quickly, he replied, “Not and live to tell about it. Comedy is her strong suit, not mine.”
The entire class laughed, including Tonks, who nodded her head in approval of his clever side-step.
After explaining how he had come to find the perfect memory to produce his first Patronus, he was asked, “Did you use that same memory when you produced your stag at the start of class?”
Candidly, Harry responded, “No, the memories that we hold most dear change as we ourselves change.” Realizing that might seem like a facile answer, he elaborated, “I have since acquired a close circle of friends that have become like family to me, so that particular memory no longer holds the same power over me.”
He dreaded that he might have opened the door to more personal inquiries, but the reply seemed to satisfy them “ temporarily, at least.
The next ambush came when he was still flush with success from having assisted a shy Ravenclaw girl to produce an engaging leopard seal Patronus. Everyone was laughing in amusement as it waddled across a tall bookcase before diving gracefully and swimming through a large crack in the far wall.
With an engaging smile, a dark-haired girl in the second row posed, “Is this how you created your character at Halloween?”
Dreading that someone might want him to explain the very personal feelings of anguish he had tapped, Harry replied as succinctly as possible, “A variation of it. But I entrusted my wand to someone else during that performance to avoid unleashing any unexpected side-effects.”
Although the follow-up question he feared did not come, the girl’s equally engaging deskmate ventured a comment that was somehow worse. With a definite flirtatious quality to her voice, she remarked, “Oooh, my sister thought you were dreamy; she’s a fifth-year, you know. She wishes you had tossed your rose in her direction.”
Harry could only shake his head as he felt the first prickles of embarrassment on his face. Tonks came to his rescue from the back of the room by announcing in an unequivocal tone that the deskmate, Christine, had just volunteered to assist Harry in his next demonstration. There was more hooting in the back of the class, but Harry was relieved that Tonks had managed to turn the tables on them. He made a mental note to remember that technique.
Christine was soon able to overcome her initial hesitancy and produced a scampering squirrel Patronus to great applause. Harry artfully dodged the inevitable hug that followed to an even more boisterous reaction.
Escaping into the anteroom while Tonks gave out the class assignments, Harry sank gratefully onto one of the hard benches that lined the left wall.
“Tough day at the office?” Lupin’s familiar tones came from the stairs to the observation post.
“How much of that did you see?” Harry sighed.
“Most of it,” Lupin admitted as he slid onto the adjoining bench. “Enough to make me wonder whether Tonks was training another straight man,” he added with a dry chuckle.
Harry joined in, feeling the tension begin to ebb away.
Sitting back in one of the leather armchairs before the fire in Lupin’s inner office, Harry wondered if it would be too much of a liberty to put his feet up. He settled for slipping his loafers off and tucking his feet under the chair instead. Lupin handed him an ice cold butterbeer and swung himself casually into the opposite chair.
“Can’t say I’ve had much of a chance to review those documents you left me, Harry,” Lupin began. “What do you suggest we discuss this afternoon instead?”
So many things he still wanted, even needed, to share with Lupin but they were not subjects for just a casual afternoon’s chat. Nor did he want to rehash the events of the day, either. After a bit of aimless small talk, Harry seized upon what he really wanted to ask; he just didn’t know how to initiate the conversation without seeming boorish.
“You have that look that tells me you have something on your mind,” Lupin observed.
“Why? Is your radar blaring?” Harry laughed sardonically, attempting to make light of a serious subject.
“Should it be?” Lupin returned with a raised eyebrow. At Harry’s hesitancy, he added, “Say what you think, Harry. I can always say ‘no’.”
And I can always apologize profusely in turn, Harry thought to himself in an attempt to bolster his own courage.
“What did you do with yourself during those years before you first came to teach here, Remus?” Harry ventured. “You’ve alluded to those times often enough to make me wonder, but never really elaborated.”
“Did it not occur to you that perhaps I didn’t want to revisit those days?” Lupin responded. Harry could sense little droplets of acid in Lupin’s tone, but he had expected nothing less.
“Yes, that’s why I hesitated to ask,” he admitted, knowing that the subject would not be summarily dropped, but wincing in anticipation of Lupin’s outrage.
“So you think because your students put you on the spot with personal questions, you can do the same with me?”
“Please don’t think that of me; my timing is just deplorable,” Harry maintained, letting the sincerity in his voice speak for itself. “I’ve wanted to ask for a long time. I want to understand.”
“Harry, those are years I want to forget. My life has finally taken a turn for the better and I’d like to put all that behind me “ hopefully, for good.” Lupin was pacing in front of the fire. “Besides, I can’t bear to think how this will change your opinion of me.”
Looking at him directly, Harry replied, “It won’t change my opinion of you.” At Lupin’s skeptical look, Harry repeated, “It won’t! Don’t forget I witnessed the full transformation.”
“That was a number of years ago. Memories dim.”
“Not this memory. Won’t you accept that you are so much more than that?”
Lupin hesitated a long while and then sighed in resignation. With a single flick of his wand, he threw open the door to the outer office and locked the door to the corridor. Harry followed and patiently stood in the doorway, watching as Lupin used a small key to unlock the bottom-most drawer of his desk.
“This is from my personal files, not something that I show to anyone. I expect you to respect that. By law, I am required to attach these documents to every employment application that I submit. Next time I'll have to include my Animagus registration, I suppose.” Lupin spoke mechanically, his eyes averted. Carefully removing two documents from the file drawer, he laid them on the desk top and walked away to stand at the far bookshelves. With his back to Harry, he gestured towards the desk. “Your answer is there.”
Harry walked somberly over to the desk and sat down. The top parchment sheet before him contained N.E.W.T. results for Remus John Lupin, dated approximately twenty years previously. Harry felt his eyes widen as he read down an unusually long and comprehensive list. Every single score was Outstanding.
Hermione would kill a small army of house-elves for these scores, he thought sardonically, knowing he could never share this information with her.
Looking up, he saw that Lupin was watching him intently. “You didn’t continue with Potions?” Harry asked with a feigned casualness that belied the tension in the air.
“Never much cared for the subject. Ironic, isn’t it?”
The second document was an official notification from the Ministry of Magic identifying said Remus John Lupin as a werewolf, hereby categorized as an xxxxx level of dangerous creature. Harry stopped reading after the second sentence; it was too painful and futile to continue.
Harry calmly met the blazing light in Lupin’s eyes as he stood up. “They’re wrong, you know.”
Lupin acknowledged the comment with only a curt nod.
“I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.” Harry heard his voice crack, but paid it no heed. “But I can tell you this, Remus, there isn’t a single person at this school who thinks of you in that way.” Hoping to make light of the situation, he amended, “Well, maybe Filch, but he’s a Neanderthal.”
Silently, Lupin leaned over the desk and returned the documents to the locked drawer.
“Sad to say, but if Voldemort and his followers come to power, the same documentation will be required of all Muggle-born witches and wizards.” Lupin’s words rang with quiet fervor. “We’ll see what kind of danger level they earn themselves in their thirst for equality! Just so you understand, Harry, this fight is just as personal for me as it is for you. The difference is I wish to topple the current administration, as well, for trying to rob me of my humanity.”
“They haven’t succeeded, Remus.”
With a sad smile, Lupin turned to him and offered, “Let’s not let those words be the last we say to one another today, Harry. Come.” Leading them back into the inner office, he added, “Why don’t you join Tonks and me for tea? The hour’s just about right.”
“Do you think she might tell some funny stories?” Harry implored.
“I think she might at that. Just give me a moment to let her know that you’ll be joining us.”
Grabbing a small handful of Floo Powder from the mantelpiece, Lupin kneeled before the fireplace and tossed the crystals on the flaming logs. Immediately, they shimmered in the bright teal color that Harry remembered. Lupin had no sooner stuck his head in the fire than he was standing up again.
Harry was momentarily perplexed when Lupin started getting his things together and motioned for him to do likewise. “Tea is being served in Tonks’ offices today,” he explained with a grin. “Her rooms are quite different from mine. The headmistress has a wonderful eye for choosing room assignments.”
Lupin banked the fire and paused briefly to lock the door to his outer office. Trekking two floors below to the Dark Arts classroom, Harry followed him down the center aisle and up the stone stairs that led to the office. It looked much as he remembered it from Lupin’s brief tenure, but he noted that Tonks had hung her new African masks in a central spot.
Opening a small door on the far side that Harry had always assumed was a closet, Lupin led the way into a larger room. There were floor to ceiling windows like in the headmistress’ library, only these opened onto the expanse of the back lawn, the snowcapped purple peaks visible in the distance. Just like in the outer office, the walls were white stucco that lent the area a modern, uncluttered appearance. Simple furniture with bright cushions was scattered strategically around the room, but most of the areas were left open. Tonks was dressed casually as she set the last of the tea things on a long trestle table in front of the pastel winter dusk.
“Wotcher, Harry,” she greeted him with an easy grin. “Come back to lick your wounds so soon?”
“Very funny,” Harry shot back as he grabbed her in a hug. Then holding up his unblemished palms, he remarked, “They didn’t succeed in crucifying me yet!”
“You two are so hopeless,” Lupin remarked as he kicked off his shoes and settled into a nearby armchair. “You just haven’t perfected the piercing stare that makes the questions die on their lips.” He tried to demonstrate but was chuckling too much to give it the proper gravitas.
“Remus, I haven’t the credentials to pull that off!” Tonks protested. “You know it’s been at least five years since I was at school myself.”
“At the very, very least,” Lupin added sagely. “Perhaps wearing your little Hufflepuff skirt the first day of class wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
Harry laughed to watch them rib each other, then commented, “Well, I haven’t got a prayer then!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Harry,” Lupin replied playfully. “I remember young Severus doing a pretty plausible intimidating glare at your age.”
“No fair, he was born that way!” Harry shot back.
“I suggest you concede the point on that one, darling,” Tonks advised Lupin directly.
“By the way, Tonks,” Harry volunteered, “Leah stopped me at lunch today to ask when I would be back to teach the first-years. She’d been elected spokesperson on behalf of her little group of girls. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Tonks stopped to think for a moment, then suggested, “I think later this week is too soon. I want to give them a chance to work this out on their own. How about next Tuesday then? Does that agree with your schedule?”
“Fine by me,” Harry agreed. “I need to set aside some time this week to finish my research in the headmistress’ library.” Then with a wink, he added, “You know what a slave-driver Remus is.”
“Do I ever!” Tonks nodded in mock agreement.
“You two do realize I’m still in the room,” Lupin chided them.
“Would it be too much to ask if you would address my second-year class? It’s tomorrow at nine,” Tonks inquired tentatively. “Last class this week, I promise! That would still give you a major portion of the day to devote to the library.”
“Perhaps I could be persuaded with just the right enticement…” Harry replied artfully. He could see Lupin trying to hide his smirk. “In return for another chocolate soufflé?”
“Done!” Tonks returned with glee. “As long as it doesn’t have to be today. I’d hate to spring a special order like that on the house-elves so close to the start of supper time.”
“I’m not agreeing without a specified date,” Harry stipulated.
“How about same time, same place, this Friday afternoon?” Tonks negotiated.
“Done!”
“You know, cherub, I think he let you off rather easily,” Lupin drawled. “I would have at least demanded--”
“Don’t give him any ideas, Remus!” Tonks insisted. “You’re hardly one to set an example.”
With burgeoning confidence, Harry addressed the second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class the next morning. When asked whether he had used the memory of being reunited with his parents to conjure a Patronus before the O.W.L. examiner, Harry was ready with a succinct answer.
“No,” he explained, “the memories that hold the greatest power for us are constantly changing. There were two years between when I learned to do the Patronus Charm and the time that I sat my O.W.L.s.”
He was pleased that the extra details about the timing of the events provided just enough padding to his answer that no one asked specifically what memory he had invoked. He’d already made up his mind to lie if that question ever came up.
He was not put on the spot again until the end of class when Tonks had already given them the assignment to practice Harry’s technique on their own.
From the back row, a perky red-headed Hufflepuff girl asked, “Please, Professor Tonks, one more question for Harry.”
Taken in by her polite tone, Tonks stepped aside to allow Harry to come to the forefront. “What would you like to ask, Sarah?” Tonks urged.
Sarah squared her shoulders with determination and amid a chorus of giggling from the nearby sections, she asked coyly, “Do you have a girlfriend?”
More giggling followed as Harry felt the floor opening up before him. “I don’t have to answer that, do I?” he whispered tersely to Tonks.
After a quick glance at the audience, Tonks surprised him with her answer. “I think you’d better. They’ve been planning this one since the start of class, I grant you. If you pass, the next question will be much worse. Would you rather have them ask you how many girls you’ve snogged while at Hogwarts?”
Recognizing Tonks’ advice as sound, Harry took a deep breath and admitted candidly, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend at this time…and I’m not in the market for one, either.”
There was a good bit of laughter but Sarah was nonplussed as she rejoined, “Why not?”
Screwing up his courage, Harry replied, “I’m just concentrating on my school work for now. Besides, my last two girlfriends stomped all over my heart.”
At the sight of Sarah taking a breath in preparation for her next volley, Tonks cut in, “Enough already! Class has already been dismissed. What are you waiting for?”
When they were alone in the classroom, Harry remarked, “Demanding little devils, aren’t they?”
Tonks laughed. “You sound just like Remus!”
A panicked thought occurred to Harry and he whispered urgently, “We’re not being watched right now, are we?”
Tonks assured him that there were no visitors that morning and then added, “I should have known they were up to something when they hardly questioned you at the beginning. At the very least, I should have prepared you by pointing out Sarah; she’s the ringleader for her little clique.”
“Clique? More like a cadre of organized insurgents!” Harry remarked wryly.
“You have a good eye.” Tonks grinned.
“Please tell me you’re not going to put me out as cannon fodder for the upper classes…”
“Not unless you're serving out a detention,” she promised with a giggle.
“Perhaps I should remind him that it is not me who thinks that deducting house points is for amateurs. Tell me, Tonks, how do you recognize their tactics so well? You’ve only been teaching for a few months.”
“I still remember them from when I was in school,” she admitted with a wink. “I wasn’t exactly in line to be a Prefect, you know.”
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: Harry assists Tonks’ students with the Patronus Charm; Lupin invites him to take afternoon tea in Tonks’ rooms.