Harry had received the happiest gift of his life so far.
It was a music box.
Black, and about the size of his palm.
When he opened it, a little tune played from inside, as if someone were humming. If Harry wasn't mistaken, it was the voice of the "Professor Lupin" before him.
He didn't know the name of the tune, but the sound was wonderful, carrying a distant, open-air serenity.
"Ding, da-da-ding. Ding, da-da~ Ding, da-da-ding, da-da~"
Dewey crouched beside him.
"This is the Hedwig Variations, Harry, a little tune named after your owl. Do you like it?"
Dewey said lightly. He didn't disturb Harry, who had spotted the ice sculptures inside, magically preserved. There were three people.
Him.
His father.
And his mother.
They were smiling and laughing, huddled together as they looked out at Harry from inside the music box.
"Harry..."
It was James's voice.
"My child."
That was Lily's voice.
Harry began to sob.
"Here, take this, kid."
Dewey considerately handed Harry a small vial of potion. "Drink it."
Harry Potter drank the potion without hesitation. After all the intensive training he'd undergone these past few days, he had developed a strange dependence on "Professor Lupin."
Perhaps it was compensation for an emotional void.
There was something Harry had never realized: the long absence of a family had made him constantly seek compensation from the outside world as he grew up, trying to make up for the missing family members.
"Professor Lupin" had filled the place in his heart that had always been empty.
The place of a father who could lead him.
Someone who could guide him and protect him.
He obeyed "Professor Lupin" without question.
Dewey handed Harry the potion, and Harry drank it.
Harry was tired.
Everything before his eyes seemed bizarre and distorted. He felt as if he were sinking, sinking, sinking, until at last he reached a quiet lake.
Someone was speaking.
Harry turned his face and saw a man's face, brimming with confidence and vitality. It looked exactly like his own. Beside him, a woman gazed at Harry with eyes full of love.
Those were his father and mother.
It was a real memory.
Dewey sat on a nearby table. He was pleased with Lupin's height; sitting on the table, his legs could reach the floor, making him look well-proportioned.
He was a little plumper than Dewey, who was far too thin.
Dewey didn't like looking like a skeleton. He should have been a handsome man, too.
He gently rubbed his brow. He was very satisfied with Harry Potter's training so far, in both respects. From Lupin's perspective, he was turning Harry into a true warrior.
Harry wasn't a genius like Hermione, let alone one of the outstanding students from the previous generation. In some areas, Harry could be downright thick.
But in other areas, Harry improved at an astonishing rate.
That's right: dueling.
From the speed with which he drew his wand to the speed of his spellcasting and the rapid growth of his magical power, Harry was a one-of-a-kind Auror. What he needed was a dueling style of his own. Dewey thought he seemed perfectly suited to certain spells—the physical kind.
Simple, brutal, powerful, deadly.
Who said the Killing Curse was the only way to kill someone?
Dewey was wondering whether he could ask Snape to give Harry a little help.
Some of Snape's spells suited Harry Potter very well.
From another perspective—from Dewey's own—he was raking in countless rewards from Harry every day.
Hundreds of White Cards!
A genuine three-figure fortune!
He didn't need any other help. Dewey was already a master of the Disarming Charm!
The spell Harry used most often was still the Disarming Charm.
He didn't use Stupefy very much, either.
Only later did spells like "Impedimenta" start appearing. At this point, Dewey only needed a thought to upgrade and copy the Disarming Charm to an extremely advanced level!
Thank you, Harry Potter.
Praise Hogwarts.
He hadn't continued upgrading his own Purple Cards—the idea of breaking down White Cards to copy Purple Cards was simply too foolish.
Harry didn't have any Purple Cards he used regularly, either. He still hadn't learned Expecto Patronum. The last time they encountered a Boggart, Dewey had driven it back with the Patronus Charm. Harry's incantation and wand movements had been perfectly proper. The only thing he lacked was emotion!
In the magical world, emotion was an important part of magic!
The cruel murderous intent of the Killing Curse, the pleasure of torment from Crucio—many powerful spells needed emotion to support them. That was something Voldemort didn't understand.
Love was also a powerful emotion. Like hatred, its magical origins were equally ancient and enduring.
That was why Dewey had used this method today. These gifts were both a reward and a catalyst.
A catalyst for Expecto Patronum!
Harry had fallen fast asleep before him, breathing evenly. Dewey laid him on the floor and made him lie flat, doing his best to make him comfortable.
The potion's purpose was to make him sleep soundly. While asleep, he would see Sirius's memories—Sirius's memories with Sirius himself erased from them.
There were only two people: Lily and James.
While waiting for Harry to wake, Dewey sat to one side and cast "Alohomora" at the closed classroom door. The lock clicked open, and someone stood outside, his expression stern.
He stood ramrod straight, his face solemn. He showed no embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping and peeking.
Snape.
Professor Snape had been standing outside for quite some time.
During the days he'd been training Harry, Professor McGonagall had discreetly asked about it, Professor Flitwick had floated outside the door to watch, and even Professor Sprout and Hagrid had asked after Harry. They were all very interested.
Snape alone was the exception.
He only mocked Lupin in a casual, offhand way at breakfast and in the Staff Room.
"An idiotic approach, Lupin. You're as mediocre as ever, whether in your teaching or your private lessons."
"Ha, training Harry Potter? He's nothing like that arrogant father of his. He's far more foolish than his father. Looks like you'll have to put in extra effort."
"A foolhardy endeavor, isn't it?"
"Ridiculous."
Dewey didn't have any objections. Professor Lupin didn't seem like the sort to hold a grudge. Besides, compared with Snape, Lupin really had been rather mediocre at school.
It was simply a fact. There was nothing to argue about.
Not everyone could invent several jinxes while still at school, then go on to invent Dark Magic like Sectumsempra.
Nor could everyone put aside the textbooks and improve potions on their own while still a student. Snape called himself the Half-Blood Prince. That pride hadn't come from nowhere. Though the Marauders had left him disheveled, they weren't a bunch of nobodies, either.
Besides, Snape really was slower than James at drawing his wand.
James's athletic talent had also given him a great advantage in dueling.
Now Snape stood in the doorway, holding a potion. He looked at Harry, who had passed out, then walked in as usual.
"You forgot to take your potion, Lupin."
Without changing expression, he handed the Wolfsbane Potion to "Lupin." Dewey looked at it and thanked Snape.
"Don't thank me."
Snape replied coldly, "I wouldn't accept thanks from a Dark Creature."
He glanced again at Harry and saw the smile on his face. Snape felt even more restless and flustered inside. With his eyes closed, the boy looked just like James Potter. That face made him extremely uncomfortable.
But no matter how much he loathed the boy, Snape had to admit that he had watched him grow up over the past three years. He still disliked him, but that feeling was no longer quite so sharp.
So Snape preferred not to see Harry Potter unless necessary. But when he did see him, he still felt a little concern for Harry.
Just a little.
He set down the Wolfsbane Potion and sniffed the vial of potion nearby. A mocking smile appeared on his face.
He recognized what it was.
"Using your memories?"
He asked "Lupin." "Are you comforting him, Lupin? A thirteen-year-old boy?"
His tone was peculiar, dripping with mockery.
"This isn't comfort, Severus. I'm simply letting him see James and Lily. Would you like some?"
Dewey looked at Snape as he spoke. Snape turned and strode away without answering.
Before leaving, he glanced at the wardrobe, which was wobbling slightly.
Dewey paid Snape no mind, either. He put away the Wolfsbane Potion, intending to give it to the real Lupin. If his guess was right, Lupin would be "ill" for the next week or so and unable to teach.
For Dewey, that was about as good as it could get.
Plenty of time, a space where nobody would disturb him—enough to get things done.
What mattered now was Purple Cards, Purple Cards, Purple Cards! What he was about to do was bold and risky, exciting and frightening. Without enough strength, he'd be killed with ease.
As for having Snape teach Harry, that was simple enough. They could discuss it after he got back.
If Harry learned Snape's magic, it would be the same as Dewey learning it.
Dewey went over and closed the door. With no unwelcome visitors to disturb him, he decided to give Harry extra training that night.
There wasn't much time left for Dewey and Harry.
Dewey drank some Polyjuice Potion and waited for Harry to wake. He saw happiness and delight welling up inside Harry.
Harry faced Dewey, seeming about to speak.
Dewey didn't give him time.
He raised his wand and pointed it at the wardrobe.
Alohomora.
He opened the wardrobe that held the Boggart.
The Boggart drifted out, taking the form of a Dementor.
"Harry, use Expecto Patronum!"
A frigid wind enveloped the area. Dewey quickly stepped back, leaving the dueling ground clear.
Now only Harry Potter remained in the arena, with the approaching "Dementor"!
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