The teacher's desk in the potions room begins to rattle violently as the class takes their seats.
"What's that?"
"A boggart, Mr Finnigan."
The class are entirely seated and pulling their textbooks but one Gryffindor is notably absent.
"Weasley, where is Potter?" Snape hovers over Ron's desk like a huge bird of prey.
"He's late."
" 'He's late, sir.' Five points from Gryffindor for addressing a teacher disrespectfully and for insulting my intelligence. It has not failed my notice that he is late, Weasley-" Snape's diatribe is cut short by the entry of one Harry James Potter.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness. You may think yourself above the rest of us Mr Potter, but I assure you that fame will not excuse you in this classroom." Snape smirks at the angry red flush on Harry cheeks as he flings his bag next the work station and moves to take a seat.
"Do not sit down, Potter." Snape commands as the drawer in the teacher's desk rattles ominously again. "For wasting the classes' time Potter, and my own, you can deal with the boggart currently inhabiting my desk."
Harry freezes. His face drains of colour and he brushes his hand across his forehead unconsciously.
"I trust that even you can handle a boggart Potter, after all you are the Boy Who Lived." Snape sneers.
Harry raises his wand in the direction of the drawer but stays rooted to the spot.
"Is the Golden Boy scared?" Malfoy drawls.
One step toward the drawer.
"You know how to deal with a boggart Harry, and you can protect yourself from a dementor too." Hermione encourages.
Harry blinks at her snapped out of his daze.
"Mate?" Ron asks.
Harry looks back at the draw and reflexively traces his scar again.
"Well?"
Pause, Harry points his wand at the drawer.
"We're waiting Potter." Snape is curious now, even if he won't show it.
"Expositus" Snape flicks his wand at the draw and it shoots open.
A shape tumbles out of the drawer and forms as it stands. The class gasps. The rattling breath, the hope leeching coldness of the dementor… and the dementor are missing.
Another Harry Potter stares into the green eyes of the Boy Who Lived, but his eyes are scarlet. Only Snape and Harry truly recognise these eyes and those at the back of the room can not even see them.
But they can all hear as the voice hisses in parseltongue, even if only the Harrys can understand.
"I am Lord Voldemort." He hisses.
"Incendio!" Harry gasps.
The second Potter is eerily still, consumed by flame for a brief second and then he is gone. Harry turns away from the shocked stares of the class and locks eyes with Snape's onyx pair. Snape's face, so often masked, is awash with a myriad of expressions, none of which Harry can read.
"Harry-?" Hermione starts hesitantly.
Harry starts. Backing away from Snape, he tugs his gaze away and runs from the room.
All that remains of the boggart is a few flakes of ash drifting to the floor.