Chapter 26: Defense Lessons
Thursday evening arrived with autumn rain that drummed against Hogwarts' ancient windows, and Adam approached Professor Lupin's office with the reluctant determination of someone walking toward necessary surgery. Voices drifted through the door—multiple voices, including ones he recognized with sinking dread.
Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger.
Of course the Golden Trio trained together. Of course his private lesson would become group instruction with the three people most likely to recognize deception when they encountered it.
"Ah, Mr. Wright," Lupin said as he opened the door. "Perfect timing. Come in."
The office felt cramped with five occupants, its walls lined with books on dark creatures and defensive magic. Harry looked uncomfortable at being compared to a Slytherin. Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly uncomplimentary about "Snakes." Hermione watched Adam with the focused intensity of a hawk studying prey.
"This is a trap. Not intentional, but effectively the same thing."
"Mr. Potter has particular difficulty with Dementors, understandably," Lupin explained, pulling a trunk from behind his desk. "Mr. Wright showed potential during the Hogsmeade incident. I thought joint training might benefit both students."
The trunk rattled ominously, something inside eager for release. A Boggart, Adam realized—the shape-shifting creature that became whatever its observer feared most. Perfect for simulating Dementor encounters without the actual life-threatening despair.
"The Patronus Charm requires focusing on powerful happy memories," Lupin continued, his scarred hands steady on the trunk's clasps. "The Boggart will simulate Dementor presence. Harry, you first."
Harry stepped forward with the resigned determination of someone accustomed to being the center of attention. The Boggart emerged as a hooded figure radiating cold, and Harry raised his wand with shaking hands.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Weak silver light sputtered from his wand, barely strong enough to make the Boggart-Dementor hesitate. Harry's face went pale with effort and frustration as his attempts repeatedly failed, each failure making him more tense, more desperate.
"His happy memory isn't strong enough. Or he's trying too hard, forcing joy instead of finding it."
After several failed attempts, Lupin called a halt. "Mr. Wright, your turn."
Adam faced the Boggart with his mind already reaching for the memory that had saved him in Hogsmeade—passing through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the barrier that had once rejected him dissolving to reveal the world where he belonged. But as he prepared to cast, the Boggart shifted.
Instead of a Dementor, it became Dumbledore.
Not the kindly grandfather figure the public knew, but the cold-eyed interrogator who'd invaded his mind at the orphanage. Blue eyes sharp with suspicion, wand raised to steal memories and identity alike.
"I must ease your mind," the Boggart-Dumbledore said in perfect mimicry of that terrible day. "For your own safety and ours."
Adam's carefully constructed calm shattered. Raw terror flooded his chest, the same helpless panic he'd felt as an eleven-year-old facing magical violation. His wand shook in his grip while the others stared in confusion—they saw Dumbledore but couldn't understand why their Headmaster would be anyone's worst fear.
"Not Dumbledore. The memory. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Belonging. Acceptance. Joy."
"Expecto Patronum!"
Silver light erupted from his wand, not mist but something approaching form—wolf-like, lean and powerful, driving the Boggart back into its trunk with visible force. The corporeal hint lasted only seconds before dissolving, but it was unmistakably more advanced than anything a third-year should manage.
Lupin's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. Harry's expression shifted from frustrated to genuinely surprised—and perhaps a little impressed despite himself. Ron's mouth hung open. Hermione's eyes narrowed with the satisfaction of someone whose suspicions had been confirmed.
"Remarkable," Lupin murmured, securing the trunk. "That was nearly corporeal, Mr. Wright. Such development usually takes years of practice."
"Great. More attention. Exactly what I needed."
After dismissing the trio with homework assignments and encouragement, Lupin gestured for Adam to remain. The office felt larger with just the two of them, but somehow more dangerous—intimate spaces invited personal questions.
"Tea?" Lupin offered, conjuring cups with practiced ease.
"Thank you, Professor."
"Please, call me Remus when we're alone. Formality makes honest conversation difficult." Lupin settled behind his desk, steam rising from his cup. "You're quite talented, Adam. May I call you Adam?"
"Of course."
"Your guardian must have been exceptional. What was his name again?"
The question felt casual, but Adam caught the subtle probe beneath friendly curiosity. "Marcus Wright. He traveled extensively—Romania, Egypt, various places where dangerous creatures required management. He died in a potions accident last summer."
"I'm sorry for your loss. Losing a mentor is always difficult." Lupin's sympathy seemed genuine, but his next words carried careful weight. "It's curious, though. I've never heard the name in any educational circles, and I know most of the prominent figures in dark creature defense."
"Careful. Too specific invites verification, too vague seems suspicious."
"He worked primarily with the Romanian Dragon Reserve," Adam replied, choosing an institution large enough to hide fictional employees. "Private consulting rather than academic positions. He valued practical experience over credentials."
Lupin nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes suggested lingering skepticism. "Well, he taught you remarkably well. Keep practicing your Patronus—you might achieve a truly corporeal form soon, something even seventh-years struggle with."
It was praise wrapped around a probe, acknowledgment of skill that came with unspoken questions about its source. As Adam left the office, he felt Lupin's calculating gaze following him into the corridor.
Hermione waited outside like an ambush predator, her arms crossed and her expression carrying the terrible certainty of someone who'd found the missing piece of a puzzle.
"I stayed behind to talk to you," she said without preamble.
"Granger, I'm not—"
"I've been researching." Her voice cut through his attempted deflection like a blade. "There's no Marcus Wright in any magical education registry, UK or international. No Dragon Reserve employment records. No death certificate in the Ministry files from the past year."
Adam's blood turned to ice water. She was thorough—more thorough than he'd anticipated.
"Your guardian doesn't exist," Hermione continued with scientific precision. "Which means you're lying about your entire background."
"Deflect. Confuse. Buy time to think."
"Maybe your research wasn't comprehensive enough—"
"Or maybe you're lying." She stepped closer, her brown eyes blazing with righteous certainty. "I don't know why or what you're hiding, but I will find out. If you're dangerous, if you're threatening Harry or this school, I'll expose you."
Her conviction was terrifying not because she was wrong, but because she was absolutely right. Adam met her gaze with all the calm he could muster while his world crumbled around him.
"I'm not a threat to anyone here, Granger. Believe that or don't—it's the truth."
He walked away before she could respond, her voice following him down the corridor: "The truth is what I'm going to find, Wright!"
That night, Adam sat in his dormitory bed and accessed the System Shop with desperate focus. Advanced Identity Protection - 5,000 SP would create deeper false records, make investigation significantly harder, buy him time to plan his next move.
[ADVANCED IDENTITY PROTECTION PURCHASED]
[CURRENT SP: 3,800]
Seven thousand SP spent protecting a lie that was unraveling anyway. The cost of deception was escalating beyond any reasonable return, but what choice did he have? Exposure meant expulsion at best, Azkaban at worst.
November brought cold rain and growing pressure from every direction. Adam practiced his Patronus obsessively in empty classrooms, watching the silver mist grow stronger and occasionally show hints of true form—wolf-like, lean and solitary, appropriate for someone who protected from shadows.
[LEVEL UP! LEVEL 6 ACHIEVED]
[NEW STATS: HP 200, MP 450]
[MILESTONE: SIX MONTHS SURVIVED AT HOGWARTS]
Six months. It felt like years of constant vigilance, careful lies, and increasing isolation. The level increase should have felt like victory, but surrounded by enemies wearing friendly faces, it felt more like delaying the inevitable.
The System's milestone recognition was both validation and warning. He'd survived half a school year, but the real crisis—Sirius Black's infiltration, the revelation about Peter Pettigrew, the climactic confrontation with truth—still lay ahead.
And he'd face it alone, as always.
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