!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS: IMPLICATIONS OF ABUSE AND NEGLECT!!!

~~~~~

Harry slowly opened his eyes, looking at the window over the head of his bed. He absorbed the red and gold around him. He sighed when he realized he forgot to draw the curtains before he went to bed. That made his anxiety act up, but what can you do.

He slowly stretched out, groaning in satisfaction as his joints popped. He relaxed into his soft pillow, pulling his blanket a bit higher as he slowly blinked the sleep out of his eyes and yawned, willing himself to get the fuck up.

After about five minutes, he finally pushed the covers down, grabbing his wand off of his nightstand and casting a quick spell to check the time. Six. He set his wand back down and flopped backwards, turning to his side and curling up, pulling the blanket back up, over his head.

He had adjusted to life with the Dursleys; he wasn't used to being able to wake up after seven. His body was telling him that it was past five, so if he didn't get up soon, he wouldn't have time to clean up, and he would get beaten. He frowned at that thought, but pushed it away and curled up tighter. He shut his eyes, deciding to try and get some more sleep.

~~~~~

The plan to get more sleep went a total of nowhere. After a whole hour of laying there, trying to sleep, Harry heard Dean wake up. He gritted his teeth, upset at himself for not being able to sleep again, but took a deep breath and sat up, opening his curtains and getting up.

"Morning, Harry," Dean said, rifling though his trunk. He offered Harry a smile, which he returned quickly.

"Good morning, Dean," He responded, sitting down at the foot of his own bed, in front of his trunk, moving his broom off of the box, and looking through it. He looked through it until he found a neatly folded set of long robes with red and gold details, along with a white button up, a grey over shirt with more red and gold details, black slacks, a red and gold striped tie, grey sneakers and new boxers. He folded them over his arm and went to the bathroom.

Harry turned the shower on, stepping under the lukewarm water. He quickly washed himself off, stepping out. He cast a quick set of drying spells in place of getting a towel and pulled his clothes on, looking in the mirror afterwards to loosely style his hair so it fully covered his scar.

Once he felt he was presentable, he stepped out, greeting Ron, who said hello back and took his place in the bathroom. Harry went to his trunk, pulling out his bag, which he put all of his books into. The bag was a large leather bag that had a flap with a button to close it, along with a single strap over his shoulder; a mail bag.

He picked up his wand and stuck it in the front pocket of his robe, before walking over to the wall beside the bathroom and leaning on it, waiting.

Once Ron walked out, the made small talk as they walked down to the common rooms, being joined by Hermione a few moments later. They walked down to the main hall for breakfast, sitting down in the same places they did the day prior. Hermione was sure to watch Harry throughout the meal.

He, like the day before, barely ate anything. It was getting genuinely worrying at this point. She could understand not being too hungry the day before; maybe he just didn't have much of an appetite, or maybe he had eaten before the train. But now? He had barely eaten anything for the past twenty-four hours.

But, instead of asking about it, Hermione bit her tongue, and decided to wait and see what was happening before she jumped to conclusions. She reached over and nudged him, gesturing to the plate. Harry looked at her, confused.

"You should eat something," She said gently, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

He started at her for a moment, not comprehending what she said fully until his eyes widened a fraction, before he fixed his expression, "I will, I just... I, uh, I haven't had much of an appetite lately," He said, averting his eyes and focusing on the wall in front of them.

"Are you sure?" She asked quietly, quirking an eyebrow and squeezing his hand gently. He seemed nervous, but he had never enjoyed being confronted about his mannerisms, so it was to be expected.

"Yeah, I'm sure," He confirmed, smiling and nodding.

Hermione didn't know if that had made her nerves lessen or had made them worse. She smiled back, letting go of Harry's hand and going back to her own food. She didn't know what was going on with him, but he had been jumpy when they were on the train, and now he wasn't eating.

~~~~~

The Golden Trio walked down the halls, Ron complaining about breakfast ending and Hermione making sure they all had the things they needed for their classes. Harry, after completing Hermione's intense interrogation and passing it on to Ron, allowed his mind to wander.

Perhaps this class would quell the voice in the back of his head telling him that he knew his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher when he clearly didn't— he had no real memory of the man, only an inkling that he recognized him, for one. Plus, the professor wasn't an overly distinct looking guy— taller than usual and with more scars than most, but not unorthodox. Maybe he had just seen someone familiar? Or maybe he did know this man somehow. Either way, he hoped this class would clear that up.

Once he finally came back to earth, it was because Hermione nudged him, "We're here!" Ron said, grinning. Defence class was one of, if not all of their favourites. Hermione favoured a few of the more straightforward ones, such as charms, but she definitely enjoyed it, while Ron and Harry both adored it.

They walked inside, finding that they were some of the first people there. They glanced at Lupin, who was crouched down beside his desk, a box in front of him. He seemed to be prodding at something inside of it while trying to keep it there at the same time, before walking to their desks.

Students filed into the room, sitting down and pulling their supplies out. Professor Lupin had gotten up and was waiting at his desk, leaning on the side instead of sitting down on the fancy chair behind it. He glanced around, seemingly doing a quick headcount, before he gave a curt nod and stood up straight.

"Good afternoon," He said, "Please put your books away, you'll only need your wands for this lesson," He smiled pleasantly, and the class did as they were told, putting their things away and pulling out their wands. He continued, "Now, this box," He said, gesturing to the box on the ground beside him, which lurched violently, causing many students to squeak in terror, "Ah, nothing to worry about, it's just a boggart."

Well, the students did seem to think that that was something to worry about, because Seamus was eyeing the box like it was about to eat him and Ron was suddenly paler than usual.

"Now, does anyone know what a boggart is?"

~~~~~

Class had ended, and Harry was left with more questions than answers— the opposite of what he wanted. Why did he look so familiar; why had Professor Lupin jumped in before his turn; why did he look so familiar; why was Lupin's boggart an orb; why did he look so familiar?

The nagging feeling that was once whispering that he knew the man was now screaming at the top of its lungs, and he could hardly suppress his curiosity. Be it luckily or unluckily, Lupin had asked him to stay back after class for a chat. He was nervous, but didn't think he had done anything.

Once everyone had left, Harry walked up to the desk. Professor Lupin smiled kindly, which definitely helped his nerves, and with a flick of his wand, there was two cups of tea in front of them.

"Um, Professor?" Harry spoke up as Lupin took a sip of his tea, "Why didn't you let me fight the boggart? Was it... did you think I couldn't handle it or something? I can, you know. I've fought a troll before—" Harry's explanation was cut off when the man in front of him frowned deeply and interrupted him.

"No, Harry," He said, gently patting the boy's hand, "I think you're a more than capable wizard, although I was worried it would take the form of Lord Voldemort. I imagine him appearing in the middle of a D-A-D-A class would make people panic," He explained, adding on the last sentence as though it was an afterthought.

Harry was quiet for a moment, in part because he felt rather dumb for not thinking of that, but more because he had never heard anyone other than Dumbledore and himself say 'Voldemort' out loud, "I thought of him first, but then I thought of those things from the train— what are they called, again? Dementors?"

Professor Lupin smiled and nodded, a proud glint in his eye, "Ah, very wise, Harry. The thing you fear is fear itself," He said, and Harry paused, "I'm impressed," He added, watching Harry's reaction to the small praise.

His eyes lit up, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he leaned forward, looking more childlike than ever. In order to hide his awed look, he took a sip of tea and nodded, "Thank you, Professor," He said, trying to bash down his smile. Lupin sighed softly.

"No need to call me 'Professor' outside of class, Harry," He said, and Harry glanced to the side, wondering if now would be the right time to bring up the odd familiarity he held.

"Prof— uh, Lupin..." He mumbled, correcting himself. He liked the way his teacher obviously listened, leaning on his palm and watching him intently, "I don't know why, but for some reason it feels like I know you from somewhere. I'm not sure if it's just my head being weird, I just wanted to know if I have seen you before or something," Harry said, seeing the look on Lupin's face shift from surprised, to nervousness, to acceptance.

"You have, actually," Lupin said, and, upon seeing Harry's intrigued look, he continued, "I knew you when you were a baby, me and your father were quite close. We went to Hogwarts together. He was one of my best friends— Lily, too, we hung out a lot," He said fondly, "So, naturally, because we were close, I knew you," He finished.

Harry was quiet once again, deep in thought, "You knew me as a baby? And you knew my parents?" He echoed, seemingly mulling over the information over and over again.

"Yes, I was Uncle Moony," Lupin confirmed, watching Harry stare intensely at his chipped mug, emotions billowing like clouds in his eyes as small memories resurfaced and he realized where he knew his Professor from. After he was quiet for about a minute, Lupin spoke up again, "Cub? Are you okay?" He asked, shaking his arm. Harry looked up.

"Uncle Moony..." He mumbled, seemingly recounting the name from somewhere, "'Cub'?" He repeated, finally looking up, "Who's that?" He felt a vague memory start to bubble to the surface upon hearing the name.

"You, of course. When you were were little, myself and all of your father's friends had nicknames for you," The professor explained, "Mine was Cub, our friend Peter called you Pinkie, your father called you Fawn, and your mother called you her Little Emerald. We all— well, all of us except Lily— called you Prongslet when we weren't talking to you," He said, smiling softly at the memories.

"Where did the nicknames come from?" Harry inquired, scooting closer to the edge of his seat.

"Our Patronuses. Mine is a wolf, so I called you Cub, like a baby wolf, Peter's was a rat, so he called you Pinkie, and James' was a stag, so he called you Fawn. Lily called you Little Emerald because you were a very small baby, and your eyes were so bright, just like hers. She said the colour reminded her of emeralds. That and that emeralds are rare and beautiful, like you. She would parade you around showing everyone how beautiful you were. She loved you a lot, James did, too," The man told him, eyes watering ever-so-slightly at the memories.

Harry looked at his tea again, processing the information. He put that information into the hazy picture he had of his parents, filling in all of the blanks he could with what he had been given. He wouldn't forget these things. Harry finally raised his head again and spoke up, "Uncle M— uh, Lupin, I—" He was interrupted.

"You can call me Uncle Moony, if you'd like," Lupin— no, Uncle Moony said, and a grin broke out on Harry's face. He sat up straighter, eyes shining with a mix of admiration, excitement, relief, and some kind of pure, innocent emotion that couldn't be pinpointed, but lit up the whole room.

"Uncle Moony," The name made Harry smile uncontrollably, "What do Patronus Charms do? How do you make them?" He asked, pulling himself a bit closer once again. Uncle Moony smiled at that, and it made it feel as though flowers were blooming in Harry's chest. He liked the proud, happy smile that made him feel like he did something good.

"Well, they serve a few purposes," Uncle Moony said, "For one, their most important purpose is that they ward off dementors. They're the only thing that can get rid of them. They can also deliver messages, but they're mainly protectors that take the form of animals," He cleared his throat, "Casting a Patronus Charm is... difficult, to say the least. You need a happy memory, and you have to focus on that, then, once you're completely focused, you say 'Expecto Patronus' and, if you've done it right, you get your Patronus," He explained.

Harry nodded, putting the information into a compartment in his brain, "Can you teach me?" He asked hesitantly, eyes flickering away for a moment before locking onto his tea once more, "I— I wanna be able to protect myself from the dementors," He told Uncle Moony, pulling his hands closer to his chest.

Uncle Moony paused for a moment, thinking, before he spoke, "I'm not the best at the Charm, I think it would be a good idea to ask someone else..." He trailed off, before amending his statement upon seeing the disappointed, hurt, but expecting look on his face, "But I'm good enough at it, and I'm sure I could teach you, if you'd like," He said.

Harry looked up, face lighting up. His bright, emerald green eyes were wide and his reddish lips slightly ajar, white teeth showing in the slight gap. His eyebrows were raised and disbelief, hope, and excitement were written all over his soft features. Suddenly, he smiled widely, the small, nearly unnoticeable freckles on his cheeks showing more with the grin as his dimples pulled in and his cheeks raised, making him squint.

"Shall we begin now?" Uncle Moony suggested, and Harry nodded in an instant, pulling his want out. Uncle Moony laughed softly, "Well then, let's do it."

~~~~~

!!!AJSKASKA I LOVE THIS CHAPTER. Also, the story is written in third person, but it's from Harry's perspective, so everyone will be called what he refers to them as (did that make sense?). Oh, and I edited the picture above so Moony doesn't have a moustache, because I fucking hate it, so if it looks a little bit off, that's why!!!