“And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the
dementor, and pulled out his wand,” said Hermione, “and he
said, ‘None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.’ But
the dementor didn’t move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery
thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of
”You’re the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!“
The very first time I saw you Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, but by your eyes. They’re your mother, Lily’s. Yes. Oh, yes. I knew her. Your mother was there at a time for me when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even and, perhaps, most especially, when that person could not see it in themselves. Your father, James, however, had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed onto you. You’re more like them then you know, Harry. In time you’ll come to see just how much.
Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes.