Harry Potter: Master of Talismans

The last strip had acquired a slight bend from my grip. I loosened my fingers and looked at the boggart, trying to give the toad something absurd to do. Dressing it for a formal occasion seemed promising, especially with a bouquet too large to see over.

Then I imagined whom I would want to give the flowers to. Luna would probably inspect the bouquet, look at me and ask a question which undid all my prepared dignity. I could almost see the smile she tried to hide when I took too long over something simple.

That made me smile too. I held on to the feeling, though the picture had already wandered from the toad, and threw the strip while speaking the incantation. The creature disappeared before I noticed quite how far my attention had moved.

An imitation of Luna stood behind an enormous bunch of wildflowers. Blossoms kept opening at the top until she leaned sideways to look round them. ‘You could just ask me to sit with you, Oswald,’ she said, moving one flower out of her eyes.

I laughed at the answer to a conversation I had not intended to hold before the class. Then I remembered the class, and warmth climbed into my face while another blossom opened. The imitation moved that one aside with the patient air I had imagined, making the whole arrangement worse.

Harry began laughing behind me. Ron followed, and the figure wavered as more people joined them. I could still see the familiar smile through the flowers when Lupin touched my shoulder and suggested moving aside.

‘That changed the atmosphere,’ he said, with a small smile of his own. ‘Next time, try to keep one clear image.’ I returned to the group with unsteady hands, relieved they no longer had to do anything useful. Harry leaned closer and advised telling Luna before Ron did.

I promised I would, especially about the flowers. Being caught thinking fondly of her was an embarrassment I could live with, although I would have preferred fewer witnesses. Looking back made me smile again, which did little to discourage Harry.

Three darkened scraps lay on the floor. Once Lupin allowed me to collect them, I used an unmarked sheet to keep the remains together and put them in my bag. The first attempt had done almost nothing, the second changed the surface briefly, and the third included a thought I had not meant to show. I noted those differences before memory could improve my account.

Hermione’s boggart became McGonagall. The imitation began telling her she had failed every subject, and her expression changed before she raised her wand. After the toad, I had little difficulty understanding how something could frighten its intended audience while leaving everybody else comparatively comfortable.

Lupin let her steady herself. When she cast, the list in McGonagall’s hand unfolded to the floor, and the severe voice began reading vegetables as though they were academic offences. Hermione’s first laugh sounded sharp, but became easier when turnips received particular condemnation.

Ron faced an enormous spider. He went pale and stood so still that I remembered his hand gripping my sleeve in the forest. Then his wand rose, and roller skates appeared beneath all eight legs. The spider tried to advance and discovered several directions at once.

It slid sideways, making frantic attempts to organise itself. Ron produced a strangled noise which became a laugh, then kept grinning as he rejoined us. He told me that had been worth learning, and I watched the skates collide again before agreeing.

Others followed, some pausing for advice or stepping back before trying. Surprise and laughter interrupted the gramophone’s tune until Parvati turned a mummy into a large jack-in-the-box. Its lid bounced cheerfully as Harry moved forward, still smiling from the previous attempt.

The smile left his face before the change finished. The box stretched upwards, colour draining into dark cloth, and a hood formed where the lid had been. Harry’s wand stayed at his side while the figure drifted closer.

Lupin called his name. I took a step without knowing what I intended, but the professor was already moving between them. He told Harry to come back towards us, and I reached his elbow as he obeyed. Harry was breathing quickly and looking past Lupin rather than at me.

The hood vanished. In the dimness replacing it, a bright disc hung behind wisps of cloud. For a bewildering moment I was looking at a piece of night inside the classroom, complete with a full moon. Lupin raised his wand before I had decided what to make of it.

‘Riddikulus.’ The moon sagged into a balloon losing air, darting sideways with a long, rude noise. Several students laughed as it spun towards the wardrobe. Lupin guided the boggart inside and shut the doors, then stopped the gramophone after its tune continued for another few seconds.

He ended the lesson, promising turns another day to those who had not tried. A few disappointed voices subsided when he turned to Harry and asked how he felt. Harry swallowed before saying stupid, looking down at the wand he had finally remembered to lower properly.

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‘That wasn’t what I asked,’ Lupin said gently. Harry tried again, saying he thought he was all right. Lupin asked him to remain for a few minutes, and I checked whether he wanted me there before staying too. Ron and Hermione waited outside while the others collected their belongings.

The closed wardrobe looked much less remarkable. Harry kept glancing towards it as he explained that he knew the dementor had not been real. He had understood the exercise and still forgotten what to do, which seemed to trouble him almost as much as the sight itself.

‘Knowing and reacting don’t always arrive together,’ Lupin said. ‘You can practise bringing them closer.’ Harry turned his wand in his hands, then asked about the Patronus. I added that we both still wanted to learn, and Lupin looked towards my equipment on the desk.

He had now seen something of my method, he said, giving us a place to begin without proving how easily that particular spell would work through it. Harry asked what we should do first. Lupin suggested finding a happy memory whose feeling we could recall, rather than choosing an occasion merely because it ought to have made us happy.

‘You needn’t tell me what it is,’ he added. I remembered the train, where I could recall Harry’s birthday without reaching any of its warmth, and asked whether we should practise keeping the feeling clear. He nodded, saying we would build from that when lessons were arranged.

He also told us not to find a dementor to test our readiness. Today should have shown the difference between preparation and a surprise, he said, and Harry gave a small, embarrassed nod. I packed the brush and unused paper, keeping the three spent pieces separate, then followed him into the corridor.

Ron asked about the moon as soon as we joined them. He thought Lupin might fear the dark, but Hermione pointed out that the moon had changed into the balloon. That still left the reason unknown, and I remembered how poorly a description of the toad would explain what standing before it felt like.

‘We haven’t much to go on,’ I said. Harry told them about our preparation instead, giving Ron an opportunity to suggest memories. After several suggestions, Harry observed that he was naming things Ron enjoyed. Ron claimed to be establishing a standard and defended a particularly good meal as a perfectly reasonable candidate.

We walked towards the next lesson while I tried choosing one memory without immediately replacing it. The lake returned first: sunlight, the movement of Buckbeak beneath me and the moment I realised I could stop holding my breath. Remembering the flight remained possible even with the accident later in the same morning.

After lessons I found Luna before anybody could improve the flower story. She listened with her head tilted, then asked how large the bouquet had been. I showed her, and she considered the space between my hands as seriously as though arranging a place to put it.

‘Talking would have been difficult,’ she said. I explained that her imitation managed, then repeated its words at her request. Her smile began slowly while my face warmed again. I decided I had spent enough of the day making a straightforward invitation complicated and asked whether she wanted to sit with me.

She said yes, adding that I could ask without preparing flowers. We found a bench beside a window, where she took my hand and leaned over to kiss my cheek. Then she admitted small flowers would be nice, and I laughed without needing to pretend I was thinking about anything else.

By the first Hogsmeade Saturday, Ron’s intended purchases had undergone more revision than several of his essays. At breakfast he crossed out an item, reconsidered and restored it in smaller letters. Hermione pointed out that this would not lower the price, so he explained he was leaving room for a change in circumstances.

Her list contained places and references. Mine mostly reminded me to bring things back for Harry and Luna, neither of whom could come. Luna was a second-year, while Harry’s difficulty occupied the empty space where Vernon’s signature should have been. Emma had signed my form before we left home.

Earlier that week I suggested a signature was not the hardest thing to reproduce. Hermione looked at me until I admitted that being able to do it was different from having permission. She reminded me that the school knew his uncle refused, then asked what Vernon would say if anyone checked with him.

I could not picture a generous response. Ron suggested the cloak before beginning to dismantle his own plan: Harry would need to pass checks, avoid people and remain quiet, all while leaving the arrangements made because Black might be looking for him. Harry listened for a while, then said he would ask McGonagall directly.

He approached her as we gathered near the entrance. Filch was collecting forms from an impatient queue, and Harry waited until McGonagall finished speaking before holding out his own. She examined it, then lowered her voice when she answered.

‘I’m sorry, Potter. This requires your guardian’s permission.’ Harry reminded her why Vernon would not sign and said he had done the work without losing the privilege through misconduct. She agreed that he had not; that was not why he could not go today. I watched his fingers tighten on the corner she returned to him.

He began asking whether Emma could help. McGonagall explained that her permission to host his holiday visit did not make her his guardian. If his circumstances changed, the application could be considered then, but she could not resolve the missing permission at the entrance that morning.

‘You may come and speak to me separately about the difficulties with your family,’ she added. Harry looked down at the unsigned space, and I wished I had found an answer that did not require making his situation worse. Filch called the next group while Harry folded the form.

He stepped aside and told us to go. Ron offered to stay a little longer, but Harry said we would miss the carriages and spend the day describing what we might have bought. I smiled despite his tone and promised a proper selection to share when we returned.

‘I intend to hold you to that.’ He put the form away, making room for another student to pass. We watched him turn back into the castle before following the queue, and I checked the list in my pocket as though adding something could make leaving feel better.