The new Dark Arts professor, Lupin, wasn't there when we all arrived to class for our first lesson of the term. Most students had already taken their seats and taken out their quills and parchment. However, being the indecisive person I've always been, I stood at the door and eyed the couple of last empty desks available, trying to decide if I wanted to sit by Vincent Crabbe or Seamus Finnegan.
Both boys shared a lot of similarities, in my opinion. Any Gryffindor would find great offense to be compared to a 'slimy' Slytherin, and to Crabbe no less. Crabbe was undoubtedly one of the most doltishly, dim-witted, empty blockheads in the entire country alongside his best mate, Gregory Goyle. It was incredible that the daft pair didn't try eating their wands the moment Ollivander handed it to them.
Seamus Finnegan, on the other hand, was the most Irish sod I've ever witnessed stumble about in this castle. He wasn't entirely gormless, like Crabbe or Goyle, but the amount of times he'd blown up his assignments really made me reconsider.
Finally, I made my decision. I took a step towards the Slytherin, not feeling like getting myself blown half-way to London, when I felt someone's presence behind me.
"Good afternoon," a tired and rough sounding voice greeted the class. I jumped and turned around, clenching onto my bag, and looked to see none other than our Professor Lupin.
He was nearly as tall as the door and quite grave in the face as it was riddled with scars and exhaustion even though he didn't look that old. He wore a particularly shabby set of wizard's robes, which had many spots made-up with lousy patchwork.
Lupin looked down at me, chuckling softly. His stringy light brown hair had slight amounts of grey and it fell into his sleepy light-coloured eyes. He then looked up at the class with a vague smile. He moved past me and walked to the teacher's desk and placed his tattered briefcase on top.
"Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today's a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."
Curious looks were exchanged between all of us as everyone packed away their things. We had never had a practical Defence Against the Dark Arts class before, unless of course, you count last year's mishap with the Cornish Pixies that barmy old coot, Lockhart, let loose by the cageful.
"Right then," said Professor Lupin, as I pulled the chair from under the desk. "No, no. No need for that Miss…?"
"Y/L/N."
Lupin smiled again. "No need to sit, Miss Y/L/N. If you'd all follow me."
Confused, all the students slowly picked themselves up out of their seats. Once we all got to our feet, we were quick to follow Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led us along the empty corridor and around a corner and down a second corridor and stopped right outside the staff lounge room.
"Inside, please," said Professor Lupin, opening the door to the room, and stepped aside to allow the students to file in.
The professor's lounge was a long wood-panelled room with a handful of round tables surrounded by mismatched chairs. In the middle of the room, sat in a low-seating armchair, was a man in all black: Professor Severus Snape, his hair greasy as ever. Uncomfortable groans were heard from some students. Snape, however, was not fazed by the distaste his students had for him. He rather looked — pleased. A daunting grin was on his face as his large hands clasped together and laid in his lap, his eyes slightly glistened.
Professor Lupin looked unfazed by Snape's presence, though I supposed that'd only be expected as they were colleagues with mutual respect for one another. As all the students filed in, Lupin went to close the door.
"Leave it open, Lupin," called Snape, breaking the awkward silence.
"Do you not care to join us for the lecture today, Professor?" Lupin asked with a small smile that looked a bit forced.
Snape's face fell flat, his hands separated as they went to grab his black cloak. "No," he said sharply. His foot that was once laid on his knee, touched the floor and he stood up - his arms wrapped around him. "I'd much rather... not… sit here and lay witness to any… incidents... that may occur."
His monotonous drawl sent shivers down Longbottom's spine, who stood in front of me. He looked rather petrified as Snape's eyes landed on him when his sentence ended. A couple Slytherins chuckled at this, needless to say who. Snape also seemed like he enjoyed the sight of the stiffened boy.
All of the students shuffled into a corner as we watched our two professors.
Snape glided towards the door. His hand grasped the door sill, and he dramatically turned in his spot to look back at Professor Lupin. "Oh…" he started, a dark eerie pause followed, definitely done just for dramatic effect. "Do be sure to stay wary of… Longbottom…" he warned, his dark black eyes snapped to the boy who was now green in the face; Longbottom looked like he was soon to be sick to his stomach if he wasn't already. "I would advise you to not entrust him with anything too… difficult" His eyes glided to the side. "Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions into his ear."
"Really now?" Lupin quizzed, a scarred brow raised. "I was hoping to have Mr Longbottom help me with the first stage of today's lesson." Lupin gently placed his hand on Longbottom's shoulder, who was conveniently beside him. The nervous boy jumped slightly and gulped as he looked between the two professors. "I'm sure he will perform admirably."
"The boy is incompetent…. he can hardly brew the most… simple of potions," Snape's grin fell as he belittled the Gryffindor.
Professor Lupin smiled, ignoring Snape's words, "Is there anything else, Snape?"
Snape narrowed his eyes, "Nothing." He swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him with a snap.
There was a slight awkward silence that filled the room. Lupin quickly saw an end to it. "Now, then…," he began, his voice strong. A few students jumped at this, including myself, and we all turned from the door to look at our calm professor. Class hadn't even begun, and yet he had already managed to gain the respect of many students due to his calm composure with handling the likes of The Severus Snape.
"Since that's done with let's get on with the lesson for today." He beckoned over his students as he walked over to the other end of the long room and stepped next to an ornate, dark oak wardrobe, which kept the professors' spare robes. A proud grin appeared on his face as he looked amongst his questioning students, and then, with a single knuckle, he gently knocked on the side of the wardrobe.
The wardrobe rattled from side-to-side harshly; it startled many students, and even seemed to catch Professor Lupin a bit off guard. His proud smile quickly vanished as he turned to look at the wobbling coat closet and leaped in front of it to steady it with his grasp. Finally, with a bit of diligence, Lupin successfully calmed it.
A small whimper came from the crowd of students, a bit in front of me, "Wha.. what's in that bloody thing?"
Lupin swiftly turned around, patting down his cloak, his comforting smile reclaiming his face. "Sorry about that, little bugger is a bit more angry than I expected… But, no need to be alarmed, children, you're quite alright." But most of us students deemed it as much a thing to worry about. He turned his head back at the wardrobe and gestured towards it. "Can anyone tell me what's inside this wardrobe?"
Granger's hand immediately shot up as it always did, but a boy spoke out of turn, stealing the limelight from the know-it-all girl. "A Boggart, that is," answered the male from the far right side of the cluster.
"Yes! Precisely! Very good Mr Thomas, five points to Gryffindor!" cheered the professor.
Granger looked very annoyed that she hadn't been the one to win those points herself. The professor seemed to take notice of this, as he let out a small chuckle. I for one, had my eyes fixated on the gold plated knob that started to turn ever so slightly.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gap underneath your beds, the cupboards under your mother's kitchen sink—" he then chuckled at a sudden memory he had. "I once came across one that had lodged itself into an old grandfather clock." He patted the side of the wardrobe again; a few students flinched, but the Boggart did not react. "The Headmaster has already approved this as our lesson today. So! We must ask ourselves, what does a Boggart look like?" His eyes instantly fell on Granger, whose arm was already up before he had even finished his question. He made a slight nod towards the bouncy girl, "Miss Granger, correct?"
Her arm fell to her side, and she nodded in return, "Yes sir. No one knows what a Boggart looks like. It's a shape-shifter. They take the form of whoever is in the same room as it's worst fear… That's what makes them so terrifying." She paused. "What's worse… is that if angered, sir…" I could hear her voice faltering, as if she were scared. "They can cause a whole army of the strongest men... and women to fall into a horrific fit of hallucinations…"
Professor Lupin chuckled softly, "... and women, yes, of course. Very good Miss Granger, I couldn't have put it better myself. Another five points to Gryffindor," he applauded. I could feel the radiance beaming off her from where I stood. I rolled my eyes and scuffled a scoff. Pansy, who stood beside me, heard me and gave me an almost approving grin. I shook my head.
"The Boggart here, sitting in the darkness, hasn't yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person most on the other side of the door, but when I let him out…" he eyed his students seriously, "he will immediately take the form of what we all fear most."
"This means," continued on the professor, ignoring the dreadfully loud sputtering of terror that escaped Longbottom, "we have a great advantage. Harry, have you spotted it?"
Granger was annoyingly yet again on the balls of her feet, bouncing to catch the professor's attention with her waving hand so she could yet again enlighten us with all her wisdom. Potter looked visibly annoyed at his friend as he tried a great deal to concentrate so he may answer.
"Professor," I stepped up out of the group of students and looked at the struggling Potter, "if I may?"
He nodded. "Go ahead."
"I can only assume there are too many of us in this room for the Boggart to assume a single form. We'd confuse it, thus… I could only imagine, we'd make it angry… or rather… angrier than it already seems to be." I motioned to the jostling of the doorknob; it was more aggressive than before.
"Ah, a keen eye you seem to have. Worry not, I have a simple way to rid us of that issue," he claimed with a thin grin. "But that is precisely right, five points to Slytherin."
The frizzy-headed Granger put her hand down and ceased her bouncing in a huff. She was obviously very disappointed. Her head turned towards Potter and from the expression I saw on his face next, I could only assume she was nagging him. I'd guess for him not answering quickly enough and allowing a Slytherin to take their house points.
I felt a firm pat on my left shoulder. I turned to see my Housemate, Theodore Nott, giving me a large toothy grin and a thumbs-up. "Way to go, Y/N. Good thing the silent ones tend to be the smart ones." He then nudged Pansy in the side, then gestured to me with a flick of his head.
Pansy rolled her eyes.
"It is always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused, just as Miss Y/L/N stated. Which should he become, a headless corpus or a flesh-eating slug?"
Professor Lupin stepped forward and took out his wand. He pointed it down towards the hard-wood flooring and walked in a circle. A luminous line followed his path. "Now, what I am doing here is a form of protection magic. The caster draws this rune around the area they wish to keep safe from intruders and those who try to escape alike. This is crafted with intent, no incantations needed."
A Hufflepuff in the back raised their hand. "What is that supposed to mean, professor?"
"Ah! Good question! I, the caster, have the intent of keeping this Boggart within this circle so it cannot harm any of you. It is also my intent that you can enter and exit this circle at any time…"
"You mean to tell me…. that… you expect us to enter inside that blasted circle with that… that thing?" whimpered Weasley as he traded terrified looks with Longbottom.
"You're very much safe," the professor tried to reassure as he finished the protection circle, but too many were already shaken up from the panicked ginger's words. "Now, to best a Boggart, it's very simple. Repeat after me, without wands, please." He waited for the students to regain attention. "Ridikkulus," he enunciated.
Nearly every student, including myself, repeated after him as we were told; however, the four to my right did not. A scoff could be heard from one of them. The nearly white-headed blond was leaning up against a wooden post near the door, cradling his injured arm in its sling. He looked as if he were about to walk out of the class at any second from immense boredom.
"Tch.. this class is ridiculous," he groaned, his eyes moved to the side, landing on me. A corner of his pointed nose pulled upward, his thin lips frowning. He looked as if he'd smelt something bad. "What are you looking at, Y/L/N?" he hissed.
"Just wondering why nobody has dealt with this giant foul rodent that's got a lame arm," I spat.
Malfoy was not at all pleased with my quick-witted insult. He pushed himself off the wooden beam and turned his body towards me. "What was that, you pestering—"
"Nuh-uh, no. You can't reuse my insult," I cut him off, crossing my arms not in the slightest amused.
There was a sudden burst of laughter from everyone in the room, but Malfoy and I ignored it.
Malfoy closed his trap and glared at me. "You know, Y/L/N, keep this up and you'll have an even harder time making allies," he jabbed.
My brows knitted together and my nose crinkled as I frowned at his harsh and equally odd comment. "Allies, Malfoy? What is this, some kind of war we're in? I'd much rather a friend than an ally, you dramatic lunatic. And it doesn't seem to me like you have any 'allies' yourself - well, notable ones anyway. Only a couple daft dimbos as bodyguards and a fangirl that's just head-over-heels. They'll be no help to you in whatever fantasy war you're taking part of."
"Whatever," he groaned, as he leaned back against the beam, "let's see who's left standing later on then - you or me - and at this rate… the odds are ever leaning in my favour, Y/L/N."
"I can't believe you," I hissed and turned away as I heard everyone laugh again. Curious, I walked closer to the inner circle of students, but they were filed in a line. I had no idea what was going on. I felt so stupid for yet again missing important lecture time just to nag back and forth with Malfoy.
I eyed down the line and spotted a particularly friendly face I wouldn't mind making "an ally" with. I grinned to myself and snuck up to my classmate.
"Psst," I hissed silently to get only their attention, and definitely not the professor's.
The tall boy turned slightly and looked down at me and smiled, "Hey, wanting the whole run-down on what's going on again?" He teased with a smirk. "Saw you bickering with Malfoy again - you two really have it out for each other, don't you?"
I rolled my eyes, "Oh, shut it, Zabini!" I hissed, nudging at him. "Mind if I cut in front of you? I assume we're about to see the damned Boggart?"
Zabini nodded, then a malicious grin took over his face. He bent down a bit to whisper in my ear. "You missed it, apparently Longbottom's worst fear is Professor Snape," he chuckled softly then stood back up.
"Really now, is that why everyone laughed just now?" I responded and looked to the front of the class, not really needing the answer. Zabini might have been a nicer person to be around, but he was still a Slytherin. I sighed to myself and focused on Longbottom and the professor. It makes sense that Longbottom would be so afraid of Snape. He treats him so harshly that I can't much blame him.
"I would like all of you to take a moment to think of the thing that frightens you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical...," instructed Professor Lupin.
The room went quiet. The tension of everyone trying to think about what their worst fears were made the air thick with anxiety. I looked around the room at the different disgruntled faces.
What is it I am most scared of?
I didn't know. Well, sure, maybe drowning or being lost in the Forbidden Forest alone was scary, but those things didn't seem likely to happen. Then my head raced.
"Everyone ready?" Asked Professor Lupin.
Gods, no, I was far from ready. I had still no idea what I would face.
Just a few people ahead of Zabini and I was Potter. I saw a sudden shudder come out of him. He looked around frantically, I assumed to check if anyone saw, but then his eyes met mine. His green eyes were hidden by the glare on his lenses, but I knew they were filled with worry. I gave a small smile to maybe offer some reassurance. He returned the gesture, though a bit sheepishly, and turned back around.
"Neville, step forward now, son," said Professor Lupin. "You'll need a clear shot — everyone pay attention now."
Longbottom looked pale and frightened, much like how he always looked. He looked down at the drawn rune on the floorboards, then the wardrobe rattled again.
Longbottom jumped back, his eyes glued to the shaking glorified box.
"In the circle, now, Longbottom," nudged the professor.
Longbottom gave a firm nod, and a focused look replaced his frightened one. He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and held out his wand at the ready.
"On the count of three, Neville," noted Professor Lupin, as he pointed his wand at the wardrobe's handle from outside the rune circle. "One — two — three, now!"
A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The door knob clicked but did not burst open like many had expected it to. This particularly soothed Longbottom. Then, again, the tarnished gold-plated knob slowly squeaked in a turn. The door opened ever so slightly. Black menacing fog flowed out of the wardrobe and filled the traced circle in a second. As the fog seeped out, a large pale hand seized a grasp of the side, pulling itself out to be seen.
Some of the class gasped, and the professor reassured everyone it was okay. Longbottom quivered in his spot. A heavy gulp could be heard from Longbottom, even from the back of the room where several particularly nasty Slytherins stood. Their delight in the Gyrffindor's distress caused Longbottom to look back, but the professor directed him to face his more... materialised fear — Professor Severus Snape.
The black fog curled as the copy of Snape stepped down out of the wardrobe. Dark black and potion stained robes draped the tall, thickset man. His greasy, long, jet black hair clung to the pale face. His face was hollow at the cheeks, much like a newly sprung ghoul, and his large hook nose appeared to have endured a few too many breaks in its day. The resemblance was uncanny between Boggart and everyone's 'most beloved' professor.
"Good thing Professor Snape didn't sit-in on today's lecture…" Zabini whispered from behind me. "One Snape is bad enough, but two? Longbottom wouldn't be the only one quivering under the old bat's gaze…" He chuckled softly to himself as he took a quick glance around the room.
He was right. The Snape before us wasn't even real, and everyone seemed tense. I nodded in response, keeping my gaze on the two most important people in the room.
The Boggart eyed the room, grazing over the boy who stood before him. He knew something trapped him, and it was unsettling.
Longbottom's hand which held his wand shaked as he struggled to bring it back to ready position. The shakiness in his voice as he tried to cast the Riddikulus charm caught the fake professor's attention.
"Ah, Longbottom…" the familiar voice called out. The boggart's portrayal of the professor was incredible, it had everything down even to his mannerisms: his dark eyes snapping to Longbottom, the tug of his cloak into a self-embrace, the monotonous and daunting drawl. Everything was perfectly and frighteningly correct. The Boggart watched Longbottom closely.
Again, Longbottom tried desperately to speak the required charm to best the creature posing as his worst fear.
A low hum came from the Boggart. "Pathetic as always, Longbottom…," he began to circle.
The boy flinched.
"Yes… So, utterly, pathetic, you are, boy… You barely have the magical power to be considered a wizard…" The Boggart stared Longbottom down. "A Squib, is what you are."
Longbottom squawked in cowardice.
"A small, pathetic, squib… Not even a magical toad would wish to be in your... disgraceful company… Trevor, was it?"
The poor boy wept, again his voice shook as he tried to speak.
The group of Slytherins in the back chuckled and questioned the boy's placement in the House of Gryffindor. Professor Lupin snapped at them. They only muffled their torments there after.
"Come now, Neville, my boy… you can do it," Lupin tried to encourage.
Longbottom looked at the kind professor with glassy eyes filled with dread.
"You've got it, son. Remember… the feathered hat… the feathered hat," spoke Lupin.
"Look at me, boy!" demanded the Boggart. Longbottom's gazed snapped back at the embodiment of his fears. This was much worse than Snape himself. It tugged at everything the boy ever cried over when he should have been asleep.
"You're nothing. Your parents… exceptional wizards… would be... disgusted to see how their only son turned out. A coward."
Longbottom glanced at Lupin again. He was mouthing the charm. Longbottom looked back at the boggart, "No." He stood straight with shaky knees. He rose his wand firm and high. "No. I will make my parents proud!" Longbottom declared, his voice stronger than it has ever been. "RIDDIKULUS!"
Then, CRACK!
The evil-incarnate Professor Snape popped into a burst of black fog that fell slowly into the rest on the floor. The Gryffindors and Professor Lupin cheered loudly and clapped for the bravery of Neville Longbottom. The black smoke left behind a confused Severus Snape dressed in ornate witches' fashion that his grandmother typically wore. A long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. The boggart tried to speak out, but the sounds of a squawking bird replaced Snape's chilling voice. This made the boy roar with laughter along with his friends as he stepped out of the circle of torment.
Clapping in glee, Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"
The Patil twin's chipper attitude quickly dropped as she looked at the professor in a bit of worry, then stepped into the circle. A blood-stained, bandaged mummy turned into an entangled mess. Finnegan's woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face, a recognisable banshee, unfortunately turned into a rat after her deafening shriek, then a rattlesnake, then eyeball, severed hand, spider, spider on... rollerblades?
The boggart was visibly getting confused and tired. With each transformation, it grew slower and slower to try and manipulate its new victim. I grew a bit worried. Then, in all the excitement, three boys rush into the forefront.
"Get your dimwitted hands off me!" cried none other than today's Dark Arts wallflower, Draco Malfoy.
I was now sixth in line. Zabini after me and Potter was second after his red friend.
"Come now, Draco! Do it! Do it!" Cheered on Crabbe and Goyle. They were both too dense to see Malfoy was visibly uncomfortable. I could only assume he knew exactly what he was going to see.
"How much do you want to bet Draco Malfoy's worst fear is holes in his pockets…" laughed Zabini in a whisper in my ear again.
I shook my head. "No way anyone could be so shallow."
"I said, hands off!" shouted Malfoy once more before they pushed him into the rune circle, stumbling forward. He just nearly landed on his face, but the frenzied boggart halted him.
Malfoy shot up in a fright and took some stumbling steps backwards, but not quite enough to exit the perimeter. He looked stunned. The boggart steadied itself as its gaze focused in on the blond. It took the rough form of a man… no, two men. The tired boggart could not render the shape of what frightened the boy so, but the ghoulish figure of one and the growing of shining hair on the other was more than enough for the Prince of Slytherin to shout at it and run out of the circle. The Boggart fell into a heap of black fog once more.
Many students laughed and mocked Malfoy's cowardice. I only watched silently as he rushed out the classroom followed by the two nimrods that caused such panic in the boy.
Professor Lupin cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly in his spot. "Alright, that'll be enough for now, ladies and gentlemen… Harry, you're up next…" He gestured towards the circle.
Potter's laughter ceased.
He straightened himself and took a large step into the circle. He stood firm in his spot, staring down at the black fog waiting for the boggart to reemerge, his wand clenched tightly in his hand.
Slowly, the black fog curled again. Sounds of shrieking wind filled the circle to the rims. Potter's dark hair became more of a mess and his robe flapped about to his side.
I noticed the black fog rising in a tornado-like fashion. "Professor…" I called.
"It's quite alright, Y/L/N," he dismissed.
My brows furrowed.
Potter stood his ground, trying his best to resist the wind as he waited for his boggart to show itself. The black fog burst upwards and engulfed the entirety of the circle. Potter could no longer be seen.
The boggart was angry.
"Professor!" I called again, but he waved me off, his eyes glued to the scene happening before us.
Everyone grew uneasy.
Suddenly a woman's scream echoed through the room followed by a thunk on wood flooring.
"Harry!" I gasped and ran into the circle without a second thought. This isn't to be happening now.
"Y/L/N!" shouted Zabini after me, his grip on my wrist failing.
It surrounded me in suffocating darkness and swirling winds. It was deafening. I could only hear the muffled panics on the other side whence I came.
"Harry?" I called out, as I slowly tried to find my way in the hazy fog.
The circle felt so large, endless even. I could hear the Professor shouting for us on the other side, but I kept forth.
"Harry…?" I called once more and then, like the eye of a hurricane, there was a clearing. The wind was still and the only sound that could be heard was the boggart in the form of a rotted dementor sucking at Harry's soul.
The sight was horrific.
The smell, horrific. Rotted flesh and sullied ash linens.
The dementor's ashy, withered hands cradled Harry's head. Its long cracked nails digging into the skin of his face.
"Get off him!"
The dementor's hooded umbrose head cracked as it turned to face me. It dropped Harry and approached me.
I panicked. I rushed past it and grabbed a hold of the fainted boy. The dementor's mouth followed me. Its decayed mouth gaped open, allowed a horrific low screech out. But then, as it grew closer, it fell into a dark fog.
I sighed, but my relief came too soon. The eye of the storm collapsed on us. Heavy winds spun again. I bent over Harry in a weak attempt to shield us.
Utter darkness buried us.
My Boggart.
I heard screams all around us, but not the same as the one before meant for Harry, but of many people. Of young girls to grown men - wailing in agony - over lost ones. A deep tormenting cackle grew from under the cries. The corruption of one man only.
Then spoke the man's voice, airy and taunting, "The boy is dead!" it echoed all around me.
I could hear large boulders cracking and falling onto stone. I gripped on to Harry tightly. "No!" I cried, burrowing my face into Harry. "They're only nightmares! Only nightmares!" I told myself as I did every night. "They're not real… not… real..." I slowly felt myself drifting, but before I went, I heard a shout and a bright light blinded me.
It's... not real...