HP : The Chronicles

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"And why would Padfoot be useful?" Ron asked as Harry noticed the smirk forming on Ginny's face.

"I just thought that, with all that talk of Grimms, Trelawney might be interested in actually seeing one." Laughter spread over the group and Harry realized Sirius might just agree with their plan, Professor or not.

"Dementors." Severus spat, looking at his lit fireplace. "Fudge gets even stupider every time I turn my back, I swear." Harry just nodded dutifully; this wasn't the first time the potions master ranted over what a fool the Minister was and it was painfully obvious it wouldn't be the last. In the course of just one month, these rants had become a part of the teen's everyday life; and it didn't help that Severus's spirits had been considerably dampened after a not so charming incident that involved Sirius, green hair dye and a failed prank that was supposed to take place on the first day of classes.

Severus had only managed to dodge that one because Harry had overheard his godfather telling of the prank to an exasperated Remus; the green eyed teen had sprinted to Severus's office and had barely managed to inform him of what Padfoot had planned before he headed to the shower. Sirius had been disappointed of course and Severus had glared the rest of the day, while Harry was laughing at both their expenses with Neville with whom he had shared the secret.

Neville, as Harry had happily started to expect from him, kept coming out from his shell more and more and, without realising it, had helped the green eyed wizard open up more as a result. It was at his utmost surprise when he found himself talking about Severus and Minnie to Neville, even though he had yet to mention Silbreith itself, as if he had been used to talking about his life with ease. And for the first time since he could remember, it wasn't Adrian he wanted to tell his secret to the most. Sometimes he lay in his bed at night, wishing he could share what was on his mind with his best, and maybe only true, friend. And just like that, on an rainy October night, Harry had decided that, should he ever decide he could reveal his secret to somebody, that somebody would be Neville, the only other person outside Severus and the Flamels that had ever bothered to get to know him and had proven once more that friends are indeed the family you choose for yourself.

One more thing that had happened in October was probably the most exciting lesson they had ever had in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Boggarts. Harry had heard of them of course, but had never had the chance to face one. First one to go had been Neville, his boggart taking the form of himself his eyes empty and cold, his stance aloof, a smirk on his otherwise blank face. The boy had taken a deep breath and cast the spell necessary, his parallel self disappearing in a tuft of white smoke. Harry regarded him with a soft smile, elbowing him gently as he walked next to him, silently communicating with him that they could talk later; the boy smiled as Harry prepared himself for his turn.

Truth be told, he had been extremely apprehensive once he realized he would have to face a boggart. He knew what his worse fears were; failing to protect his brother, losing his loved ones, failing to react in a situation when he was needed, these he knew. And then, as he waited in line, his mind travelled to Quirrell and what he had done; with that came another fear he had tried to burry deep inside him. What if he became the man he had set to stop? A killer? It proved that all his assumptions were wrong. Because, the very moment he stepped in front of that boggart, a Dementor appeared.

And even if the feared creature ended up tangled in its own -at the moment bright pink with fake fur- cloak after a well aimed Riddikulus spell, Harry stood baffled. From all the things he thought to be afraid of, the Dementors had never crossed his mind.

The same afternoon, he had spoken to Neville, on the subject of the shape of his boggart. If he had expected something like that to happen, he would have expected it from himself and, truth be told, he had been extremely curious of what had been going through Neville's mind while he faced the shape-shifting creature. The answer had been quite disarming and had only served in strengthening the bond he had felt forming with his friend.

"I'm terrified I'll disappoint them." He had said, confusing Harry to no end as the sat down on the grass by the lake.

"Them?" He had asked, frowning as he tried to understand what the brown eyed boy meant. The answer came to his mind just as Neville had started to explain.

"My parents, my grandmother… you name it!" He exclaimed. "My parents fought in the war. You know what happened to them and now my grandmother is all the family I have left. I'm scared that I'll become what made my family what it is today." And he lowered his gaze to the floor, waiting for harry to pass his judgement. The green eyed boy had been surprised to find his eyes moist as he tried to form an answer.

"You won't, Neville." He stated firmly, remembering a similar conversation he once had with Severus. "You won't."

"But how do you know? I'm nothing special; how can you say that I won't let them down?" Harry glared at his best friend, righteous indignation bubbling in his chest.

"You're my best friend, Neville, and I won't stand to see you shunned, even by your own words." That had claimed the other boy's attention it seemed, as Neville turned his eyes to tentatively look at his friend. "You're a good guy Nev. You're a great friend and a just as great wizard and don't you even try to deny it!" He had added the last part as Neville had been ready to object. "Since you got your new wand and started training anew, you've vastly improved. And the very fact that you're worried about disappointing your family means that you probably won't."

"You think so?" The boy asked, hope shining in his eyes.

"Yes." Harry stated. "And remember, should you ever need help, you'll always have me." It was Neville's turn to tear up. The two boys sent s goofy smile to each other and then, in a classic teenage fashion, tried to deny they had ever been that touched in the first place, Neville bumping his fist on Harry's shoulder, simply stating;

"Likewise." Harry nodded once and from then on the conversation turned to Quidditch, flowing more naturally than it ever had between Harry and Adrian.

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