Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

Everyone was excited for their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. From what they'd heard around the school, Professor Lupin actually knew his stuff; no chance of another duffer like Lockhart. Harry hadn't properly spoken to him yet, but he still couldn't shake that strange feeling like the professor was familiar. It made something in his chest tie itself in knots, and had Harry squirming when he was sat behind his desk staring at the new professor.

The feeling was pushed aside when they were led to the staff room, Lupin gently suggesting that Snape vacate the area. The Defence professor seemed incredibly amused by Neville's boggart transformation. Maybe Snape had already pissed off the new staff member. Harry wouldn't put it past him. Wand in hand, Harry braced himself to face the boggart, only for Lupin to step in front of him. The boggart turned into a floating silver orb, shining mysteriously — until Lupin turned it into a cockroach. Was that the moon? Why was Lupin afraid of the moon?

No one seemed to notice that Harry hadn't faced the Boggart, too busy chattering about their own vanquished fears. Harry almost said something to Lupin, stayed back and demanded answers, but he decided against it. Maybe he was overthinking things. Possibly class was just about to run over, and Lupin wanted to wrap things up.

Harry kept to himself as he walked down to dinner, letting Ron and Hermione's bickering wash over him. Professor Lupin hadn't said anything about seeing Harry before, or knowing him from anywhere. Harry was probably imagining things.

Still, something didn't feel right. There was something about the man that Harry couldn't put his finger on.

As Ron and Hermione continued to fight over their pets, Harry found himself spending less and less time with the pair. It was giving him a headache, and both of them expected him to take their side — it just wasn't worth the hassle. Instead, he spent time alone, or with Neville. He was surprised at how close he was becoming to the shy Gryffindor since he'd revealed his secret. He was easy to get along with; much easier, Harry thought guiltily, than Ron and Hermione.

True to his word, Neville had sent an owl to his gran explaining Harry's circumstances. She'd responded with a long letter about what she'd like to do and say to Albus Dumbledore, but also with several rolls of parchment with notes for Harry to study about proper etiquette and behaviour, and a book called Occlumency For Beginners. Thanks to her, Harry was now in the habit of trying to clear his mind and organise his thoughts before bedtime. He wasn't sure if it was helping, but Neville insisted it was the best starting point.

Harry and Neville were in the school library — where for once, Hermione was not — looking at some of the books that wouldn't be too suspicious for him to be seen studying in public. Just in case anyone came across them. Harry should've known there would be plenty of books in the Hogwarts library.

"So technically, none of us are responsible for anything until we come of age," Neville was explaining. He sounded more confident than Harry had ever heard him, except perhaps for when he was talking about Herbology. "We're just heirs — it's not until you're the head of your house that you really have any influence. For most people that wouldn't happen for ages. Usually a Lord or Lady will keep their seat until their heir is married and has kids — just in case they need to change the line of succession, y'know? If they don't like who their heir has married or whoever. But, well, we don't have any other options," he added with a bitter smile. Harry bit his lip. He knew Neville was raised by his gran, but he'd never asked what happened to his parents. He didn't really know how to bring it up.

"Then why do all the books make it sound like such a big deal from birth?"

"The family heirs are the ones responsible for securing good family ties for the future," Neville told him. "Everything relies on the heir. If the head of the household is awful, sure, that's not great. But the future lies on the heir, so if they're not great, that's another generation of bad to deal with. Say one heir offends another heir when they're like, twelve, right? That grudge will carry through the family for the next fifty or sixty years, however long it takes for the next heir to take over. And Merlin help them if the grudge has been passed down. Some families have had grudges going on for centuries."

"Like the Malfoys and the Weasleys," Harry realised. That bad blood was far too deep to have started with Lucius and Arthur. Neville nodded.

"Exactly. And family grudges can make politics really difficult, especially when there's only fifty seats on the Wizengamot at any one time. If you piss off one family, and they tell all their allied families—"

"You end up with a lot of people who vote against you just to spite you," Harry surmised. Neville nodded. "Exactly. So our behaviour is really, really important."

Harry looked back down at the next paragraph in the book, and as such didn't notice they had company until a throat was cleared. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott stood beside their table; Susan eyed Harry warily for a second before turning to Neville. "Ernie wants to know if you'll help him with his Herbology homework on Friday."

"Of course, yeah. Why didn't he ask me himself?" Neville paused, then sighed. "Don't tell me he's still hiding after the butterbeer incident?" Both girls giggled, and Hannah nodded. "Idiot. It's completely fine, my gran even thought it was funny. Tell him I'll meet him in the usual spot after dinner."