Harry Evans: Memoirs of a well-lived Death (SI)

Harry and Penny exited the Potions classroom exhausted, but happy. "You managed to not blow everything up!" Penny congratulated as they started making their way to Defence against the Dark Arts. The boy grimaced, before showing a small smile.

"I guess that's an improvement, it seems like all that practice last year helped."

"Slughorn even gave you a point!"

Harry remembered how Slughorn had given him a point for meticulously preparing his ingredients. He'd never had an issue with that, considering it was the part of the process that he could control. It was rather at the cauldron stage that everything tended to go tits up for him. There was just something about his hands combining the ingredients under a regulated temperature that made them not interact well.

"Pity points," he muttered.

"You're always such a downer. There are literal jobs in the magical world that consist of only preparing ingredients. Sure, usually you need to know something about brewing as well. But every decent Potions Master needs an assistant or two."

"I get the feeling that this role is usually filled up by apprentices who want to become potion masters themselves," Harry speculated and tousled his hair when he felt something itchy touching his scalp. His hand came back with a bit of crushed snake fang and he grimaced, before scourgifying himself in entirety.

"Nope, it's the job my grandmother did for a few years. Then she decided to become a full apothecary."

As Penny explained more about the career path of her grandma, Harry wondered to what extent gender discrimination existed in the magical world. For all that wands were great equalisers and technically gave everyone access to a symbol of phallic power, most of the higher positions in the magical world were still held by men. Was it simply because women tended to stay home after having children?

He suddenly realised something and turned to his blonde chattering friend who was gesticulating into the air as she described how her grandma had once had to bleed a dragon to fulfil an order on time.

"Does the wizarding world have any schools, before Hogwarts that is?" he asked.

"No, just village schools if several magical families end up living in the same place. I went to one, but I know that most people were taught by their parents," she explained and clammed up as they neared the DADA classroom, which already had a group of Gryffindors waiting in front of it.

With the new information, Harry theorised that women tended to give up their careers to take care of their children, seeing as there weren't seemingly any normalised places where they could drop them off and go to work. Perhaps those with a supportive family structure, or the half-bloods who sent their kids to muggle school could pull it off.

"Are you excited for DADA?" Cedric asked as he caught up to the two, having chatted with his potions partner on the way here. "Still can't believe we're going to be taught by James Potter. Bonkers."

"It should definitely be an improvement over last year," Harry said, adding the 'I hope,' in his head. While James Potter was seemingly very good at his job, which involved dealing with the Dark Arts, it was still up in the air if he would be any good at teaching.

"Let's find out!" Penny said excitedly as the door to the classroom creaked open and they entered. It was interesting to see how James had decorated the classroom, considering how every defence Professor apparently did it differently. Twix had been boring, bringing with her some mundane objects that she'd allegedly un-cursed. Harry was still unsure if the woman had been anything but a professional clown, to be honest, and was slightly ashamed that he hadn't merited a more competent villain for his first story arc. Anyway, James at least seemed to have more of a sense of style, he noted as the students filed into the classroom and took their seats. There were stuffed beasts, such as grindylow and red caps, sharing space with broken death-eater masks and bloodied robes. Overall, it was pretty wicked. He sat down in the seats all the way in the back, everyone else clambering to the front.

The Death Eater memorabilia though, was probably a bit insensitive to the Slytherin students.

A warning, maybe? Harry was busy analysing the head of what appeared to be some ginormous snake when the back door of the classroom banged open and the man of the hour arrived, levitating behind himself a very large wardrobe, which he deposited in the corner, where there was the most space in front of the doors.

"Fuck," Harry muttered quietly, but not quietly enough for his bench neighbour not to give him a queer look. A dark-skinned and athletic girl with a red and gold tie.

"What?" she whispered with wide eyes, as Harry noted that both Penny and Cedric had won the battle for front-row seats.

"I think that's a boggart, they like dark and enclosed spaces," he explained as the chatter of the classroom died down and the professor went behind the lecturing podium, observing them through gold-rimmed glasses. He seemed oddly serious, now that he was teaching. Harry just hoped they wouldn't be dealing with a competent Lockhart. If that was the case he would have to ask Filch if he could do detention with him instead.

The wardrobe rattled violently and the students sitting in the front rows seemed to regret their decision and inched back into their seats.

"Nothing to worry about, it's just a boggart," Professor Potter proclaimed, raising a calming hand. It wasn't very effective and people started whispering.

"Quiet down, quiet down. I know it's scary. You all covered only non-magical animals and muggle scenarios last year. Maybe some magical plants. But now it's time to move on to some magical creatures and that's why I've started with a boggart, which in a room as full as this, is less dangerous than a rabbit, quite frankly," he explained, finally managing to regain some order. He started pacing around and seemed to be deep in thought before he snapped his finger and pointed at the students. "Can anyone tell me what a boggart is, for those who don't know?"

Almost half the class raised their hands. Harry was pretty sure that some of those who did didn't even know the answer. The professor seemed equally overwhelmed by the response and ran a hand through his brown hair.

"You," he said, eventually pointing at Cedric.

"They're creatures that turn into what you fear most. They like dark spaces, like wardrobes. But my dad once found one under the bed in the guest room."

James clapped. "Good, three points to Hufflepuff. Those were already essentials. Boggarts are creatures that feed on your fear, and for that purpose, they'll try to scare you. They're what's most likely to be found in a dark space that is rattling suspiciously. That, or pixies, which we will also be covering this year."

"In line with the duality of emotions often seen in magic, while boggarts love fear, they hate laughter. It's what defeats them."

A student raised their hand and posed their question after a nod from the professor. "But if they're scary, how are you supposed to laugh," the girl complained.

"Ah, the perfect question to segway into the meat of today's lecture. Two points to Gryffindor." He paused. "How indeed, does one laugh at one's biggest fear? Does anyone know?" he asked and looked out into the classroom. Harry had to admit that the man wasn't such a bad teacher as he'd expected from his prank at the sorting. That's why he took mercy on him when nobody raised their hand. Boggarts weren't covered in the course book that Potter had assigned, so the kids didn't really have a way of knowing the spell that countered them. He raised his eyes and watched as Professor Potter's gaze fixated on him. It stayed there, the man's face stuck in a neutral position that didn't betray any emotions behind the façade.

"The spell for changing the shape of a boggart is called riddikulus. You're supposed to change it into something funny, so you laugh. For example, if your biggest fear is a death eater, maybe you can cast the spell and turn their robes into a ballerina's tutu," he suggested and continued. "In that regard, I'd also like to ask if it's possible to simply cast a cheering charm on one's self instead. Technically that would also elicit laughter."

"Thank you, Mr. Evans," the professor said. "Five points to Gr-Hufflepuff. Completely correct in regards to the counter-spell, as for your question, I think the cheering charm might work." He turned to the rest of the class. "What you should perhaps note down at this point, is that your laughter does not necessarily need to be completely genuine. The point of the spell is simply to be able to start the process. Now, let's practise the spell, without wands, first," he said and dramatically cast his hand towards the class like he was Palpatine about to summon lightning. "Riddikulus!" he intoned in a stupidly high-pitched voice.

"Riddikulus," came the enthusiastic shouts from the class. It continued like that for a few minutes, everyone getting their pronunciation right with the help of their neighbour.

But nothing could last forever, and soon they were made to stand in a circle around the rattling closet, set to face the boggarts. Harry kept to the back, hoping that perhaps he could avoid being called upon. Penny was right there next to him. He didn't know if it was for the same reasons. Cedric however, was in the front. And when Professor Potter called for a volunteer, he was the first one to step forward.

"You ready, Mr. Diggory?" James asked as he raised his wand at the wardrobe, likely to cast an opening charm at its door.

Cedric braced himself, raised his wand and nodded. He looked quite charming, standing in the middle of the circle of students as if to protect them. Wand raised, wind-swept hair framing a serious face. The effect was ruined when the door of the wardrobe opened and the boggart came out. Everyone laughed without having to force it.

A broken broom was lying on the floor, menacingly.

Cedric became red in the face as the laughter forced the boggart back into the wardrobe, with the doors shutting close behind it. Cedric lowered his wand and the professor patted him on the back before calling over the next person.

"I almost crashed when flying this morning," Cedric admitted when he went to stand next to Harry and Penny, "and the trial is this weekend." They both shot him amused looks, which quickly turned serious when the wardrobe opened again and something much more horrible stepped out. The summoner was some Gryffindor boy that Harry didn't know, but as the gigantic werewolf scrambled its way out of the wardrobe, its claws raking and tapping a horrible beat on the stone floor and the boy didn't flinch, Harry grew to respect this anonymous second-year. Everyone else inched back and the professor made to step forward as the werewolf made threatening gestures towards the students, with its snarling mouth, sickly elongated arms and horrible-sounding yips, barks and growls.

"Riddikulus!" The second-year cast and the werewolf morphed in a swirl of colours into a white poodle riding a unicycle and barking God save the Queen. Harry chuckled in disbelief, while several genuine and several forced laughs went through the circle of students like a wave.

"Alright, good job, next!" Professor Potter shouted and the Gryffindor stepped back, only to be replaced by a Hufflepuff whose biggest fear was, again, a werewolf, now a chihuahua shitting itself.

Werewolf, Death Eater in a tutu, werewolf, werewolf, dead parent, werewolf, inferius, snake, werewolf, professor McGonagall, werewolf. The fears of the students listed in order, although Harry was sure that he missed a few. He'd been busy sneaking his way into the group of students that had already cast the spell and perhaps the only thing that made Professor Potter not notice what he'd done was the fact that he was busy being consternated about the fact that werewolves were the predominant fear of the day. It made sense. Most of the children in the class were too young to remember the war and the two werewolf attacks in Britain had been the worst thing to happen in recent time. That's what the newspapers claimed at least.

It was after the last student had gone through the grinder of facing a boggart that Harry noticed a small group around him, who had also snuck away from having to face their greatest fear. Among them was Penny, one Hufflepuff and one Gryffindor. It made him realise that it wasn't that the professor hadn't noticed their non-participation, but likely that he didn't feel like forcing them. The class collectively went back to their seats, leaving a slightly constipated-looking James Potter in front of their classroom.

"Good job, everyone. I'll end this session with a minimal amount of homework," he said, before being interrupted by a raised hand.

"Will we be covering werewolves as well, this year?" Katie Bell asked

"Werewolves are a threat unsuited for second-year Defence against the Dark Arts, I was more thinking of putting them into…" the man trailed off, before sighing. "We'll cover werewolves next week, face fears and all that," he said to the joy and trepidation of the class. Harry got the feeling that while some of them wanted to learn how to defend themselves, most carried a morbid curiosity about the cursed humans that shifted every full moon. "To that end, find everything you can about werewolves in the library. Five-inch essay on the curse as homework," the man declared and clapped dismissively, some of the students left, but others went to crowd around the auror, probably to ask him personal questions. Harry simply packed his things and leaned back, waiting for the man's frustration to boil over at the likely insipid questions and for him to have the time to discuss detention. It didn't take long before James snapped something at the gaggle of children surrounding him and deducted a few house points, which finally made them leave.

Harry sauntered over.

"Professor Potter, I'm supposed to discuss my detention with you?" he prompted and watched the annoyance bleed off of the man's face.

"Yes, yes, of course. Detention will be on Monday at 7pm, right after dinner. It's not good to use violence unless there is a threat of physical harm."

"What will we be doing, if I may ask?"

"Grading homework, I heard you went forward in Charms and Arithmancy so I'm sure you can help me with the first-years if I give you a sheet of requirements," James said and Harry blinked in surprise, before humming thoughtfully. Grading people?

"I'm sure we can arrange that," Harry said with a smile, causing James to nod.

"Any reason you didn't face the boggart?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.

Harry froze.

"I didn't feel like finding out what my greatest fear is in front of all my classmates," he eventually reasoned.

"You don't know what it could be?" James prompted, somewhat confusedly, perhaps thinking that it should have something to do with Twix and the hostage-taking of last year.

Harry shrugged, he genuinely didn't know, but worst case he wanted to find out alone. If the fear was indicative of his existence as a reincarnation, he wanted to keep it to himself

"No clue."

"Well, I guess we should find out on Monday, then," James said and Harry took it as a dismissal and left with a grimace. He knew it was important to face a boggart in a controlled environment at least once so that one could identify it in the future. But on some level, he would rather not bother at all. Whatever he was afraid of, it was probably better for it to stay buried.

He exited the classroom into a throng of first-year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, who all scrambled inside as if there was an unlimited supply of fire whiskey on every table. The only student who stayed outside was a girl with curly black hair and grey eyes. Harley Black stepped up to Harry as the door closed behind them and looked up at him.

"Thanks for standing up for me yesterday," she said, at which Harry just shook his head, he didn't feel any pride about what he'd done.

"Don't mention it, literally," Harry said, gaining a confused chuckle from the girl.

"I just wanted to tell you though, that I can take care of myself," she said and went to enter the classroom, leaving Harry alone outside. He had a free period. He did not have enough time to go to the Room of Requirement, especially since he tended to avoid doing so during the day when there were the most students out and about. He decided to opt for the library, he could finish his homework and would still have some time left over to look up curse-breaking, which he would need if he wanted to check out the stuff in the room of lost things.

-/-

Harry once again, probably for the twelfth time this week alone, patted himself on the back for the spell that he'd created. Literra revelio had once again saved his ass. Not only did it help him complete his homework much faster, as he found the necessary literature in the blink of an eye, but the topic of curse-breaking had turned out to be quite obscure. He definitely would have needed to look around for several days if he'd searched the library manually. With his spell, it had taken him just under four minutes to gather the low amount of three relevant books there were on the subject. The ones that weren't in the restricted section that was.

He started with 'Curse-breaking Compendium', which seemed to be an encyclopaedia of all the curses that the author of the book, one John Figgs, had encountered during his career. The man had, instead of ordering everything alphabetically, or by order of how likely one was to encounter a certain curse, ordered the listing from the curses that he would mind the least to be affected by to those he would very much mind. So while the first curse described in the book was the curse of hair loss, which Figgs rationalised away with the fact that he was bald already, the last entry on page 143 was a blood-line curse which would doom one's entire family line to basically live as if they had taken a sea sized dose of anti-felix felicis.

The book wasn't a manual on how to cast the curse, nor was it a manual on how to break it. Every entry simply had a description of a curse effect and what items they had been found attached to, with a little sketch. To this end, the book held a staggering amount of 471 different curses. Naturally, Harry didn't read them all, but he felt like he had a better grasp of what he could expect from a cursed object. Generally, the rule that he identified was; that the less awesome, historically or emotionally important the cursed item, the lighter the curse. Figgs explained this by claiming that since curses were evil thoughts given form, they were easier to attach to items important to the caster of the curse. This actually correlated nicely with the knowledge which Harry had, that the items cursed with the most perfidious magic in the books were all either gold or jewellery.

The locket that almost killed Katie Bell came to mind, as did the Gringotts vault with self-replicating burning coins. The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was of course the best example. No one ever heard of a cursed condom, or spoon and the least significant item cursed in the book was a pair of shoes which would attempt to trip its wearer into dangerous situations.

Feeling some trepidation about the Room of Requirement, after having found out how bad things could get, Harry decided to simply leave particularly important-looking items out of consideration. The stronger the curse, the harder it was to break it. Although he couldn't really do that, could he? Considering the strength of curses correlated with value, then he would be ignoring exactly the things that he would want to sell the most. He sighed and opened up the next book. 'The Compendium of Curse-breaking,' by Jonathan Figs; not to be confused with the 'Curse-breaking Compendium,' by John Figgs. Harry started reading and was glad to see that this book actually seemed to detail the steps necessary to becoming a curse-breaker and what abilities one generally needed to be a good, and therefore, not a dead one.

The description of the ability that one seemed to need the most, to the point where the author mentioned that one shouldn't even bother if one couldn't learn it, swirled in his head as he closed the book. The ability to perceive the magic outside of one's body. He could see the need for something like that when interacting with inherently magical items, but the book hadn't been helpful in regards to telling him how to acquire the skill.

He sighed and stood up, leaving the last book for some other day. He had research to do, but not now. Now it was lunchtime.

"Heya Harry," a voice said from behind him, making him jump, pull his wand and twirl around. He dropped his arm when he saw that it was just Tonks and his other hand clutched at his heart.

"Fuck," he muttered, as the two fell into step and left the library. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Not a good feeling, huh?" Tonks prompted as she twirled one of her purple locks around her finger.

"Yeah well, still not something to attempt a punch over," Harry retorted, at which the girl rolled her eyes.

"Please, as if you have any ground to stand on when it comes to punching," she snorted, at which Harry slumped, defeated.

"Everyone saw that?" he asked.

"Well, no, but everyone's talked about it. Physical violence isn't that common here, you know. People are surprised it was you who did it. Prim, quiet, points generator Evans," she mocked while shaking her head. "Who knew you had it in you."

"I overreacted, but its too late for regrets, I don't usually go from 0 to a hundred in a second, but he managed."

"Well, I can't really say I care. I mostly came for that duel you promised," Tonks said, dismissing the previous topic. Harry mulled over his availability and realised that he would like to have at least this week to sharpen his technique against the dummy in the Room of Requirement, as he was now he would most definitely lose against a sixth-year. Give him a few days… and he would most likely lose to sixth year.

"How about Saturday?" Harry asked.

"Sounds good to me, just don't chicken out. I think it's really kind of you to offer me a punching bag, as you know I've been a bit stressed lately," she said with a laugh and they parted ways as they reached the great hall. She went to sit with the prefect who had hexed Harry after his punch at the sorting. They seemed close, but that was to be expected after you spent six years going to courses together. Harry went to sit next to Penny and Cedric, who were almost done with their meal.

"Wankers, didn't even wait for me outside," he accused the two, who shared a guilty look.

"Maybe this can be a lesson to not punch people?" Penny suggested tentatively, as Harry loaded his plate with food. Harry snorted and threw her a sideways glance.

"Lesson learned, Penny, lesson learned. I can't believe I'm going to waste my time in detention for this," he said. Penny cringed and awkwardly rubbed the back of her head. Cedric meanwhile, laughed.

"Not the lesson she meant, mate!"