Can A Phoenix Love A Lion? (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

28. A Story of Betrayal

One week later, on Monday, Y/N walked up the corridor toward Lupin's classroom after lunch.

"If Snape's teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," Ron said.

Luckily for him and the others, Professor Lupin was back at work. And it certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; Y/N couldn't help but imagine he had a werewolf before him. Nevertheless, Lupin smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behaviour while he had been ill.

"We don't know anything about werewolves—"

"—two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly.

The babble broke out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind—"

"—he wouldn't listen—"

"—two rolls of parchment!"

Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."

It was much to the delight of the class, and the disappointment of Y/N and Hermione who had already finished it.

Then, they had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin had brought a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking.

When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, except Y/N who went straight next to Lupin. "Professor, could I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Y/N," Lupin said. "Just wait a second." He turned toward the mingling of students at the door. "Wait a moment, Harry," he called. "I'd like a word."

While Lupin covered the hinkypunk's box with a cloth, Harry got out of the crowd and went standing next to Y/N.

"I heard about the match," Lupin said, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No," Harry said. "The tree smashed it to bits."

Lupin sighed.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance."

"Did you hear about the dementors too?" Harry said.

Lupin looked at him quickly. "Yes, I did. They have been growing restless for some time . . . furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds. . . . I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," Harry said. He seemed to hesitate, and then asked, as though he couldn't help himself, "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Professor Lupin said sharply. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have. Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself . . . soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."