Chapter Forty-Three – A Boggart in the Classroom
Draco wasn't seen until the following day, while the rest of the class was in Potions. They were in the middle of crafting a complicated Shrinking Solution for Professor Snape. The potions master skulked around the room, criticizing the Gryffindors while offering praise for the students of his own house. Then Draco sauntered in, putting on a brave grimace and apologizing for being late. His right arm was completely covered in bandages and suspended by a sling around his neck, but even if he had been laying in a hospital bed near death, Harry would still believe he was putting on an act. And Draco was hamming it up marvelously.
If Harry had attempted to enter Potions in the middle of the period, it wouldn't matter if he had an excuse from the Minister for Magic himself. Snape would have settled him with detention and a week of scrubbing out cauldrons barehanded. But for Draco, Snape merely waved him to an unused cauldron and instructed him to have one of the other students help him catch up.
Predictably, Draco set his cauldron at the same workstation as Harry, grinning at him as he wriggled the fingers of his right hand. That was all the proof Harry needed to know he was faking his injury, and that Draco wanted him to know it, too. Harry shot him a dirty look, to which Draco responded, still grinning, by raising his free hand in the air.
"Professor?" Draco called to Snape in his most insipid tone, "I won't be able to cut my shrivelfigs."
"Potter. Zabini. Assist Malfoy with his ingredients."
It was useless to argue against the potions master, but that didn't stop Blaise from gripping his knife with greater severity as he glared at Draco.
"Sure, I'll cut your shrivelfigs," he said in a threatening whisper.
The double entendre was not lost on Draco, whose triumphant grin faded as he slid a bit further away from Blaise and his knife.
The last thing Harry wanted to do was help Draco with anything, but he didn't want to leave Blaise with all the work. They both had their own potions to complete, and Snape had a nasty habit of selecting the worst potion to test in front of the whole class. Harry was often the victim of these experiments, and he had no intention of giving Snape another excuse to target him.
Draco was thoroughly satisfied with himself, enjoying the feeling of superiority he gained from having Harry perform these menial tasks. Harry wished he would be satisfied with this petty victory, but Draco soon grew bored with watching Harry work. He waited until Snape's back was turned, then he moved closer to Harry, who was struggling to prune the rest of his ingredients, and began muttering hateful things close to his ear.
"Father's not very happy about that hippogriff," Draco whispered, "He's already complained to the school governors. I won't be surprised if they've sacked that giant oaf by the end of the week."
Harry did his best to keep his expression blank, even if he felt like punching Draco in his smug face. He knew Draco was trying to taunt him, and he refused to rise to the bait.
"I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking," Draco continued once he saw that Harry was determined to remain silent, "He had no business hiring that dropout in the first place. But I'm sure we won't have to put up with it much longer. My father has a lot of influence with the governors and the ministry..."
"Your father isn't special, Draco," Blaise countered, noticing the blond's incessant muttering, "My mum wouldn't let anything happen to Hagrid, and she has just as much pull as your dad."
Draco seemed to be waiting for just this threat. He ignored Blaise entirely, continuing to direct his snide comments at Harry.
"You won't be able to use that threat again." Draco said, "You don't have anything on us."
Blaise looked confused, but Harry knew exactly what Draco meant. This was his revenge for losing Dobby last year. He blamed Harry, which was fair because it was Harry's fault that the house elf had been freed. Draco's father must have told him all about the encounter, and how Harry threatened to go to Mrs. Zabini if Mr. Malfoy did not comply with his demand. Harry wondered how much Draco knew of his father's complicity in last year's attacks on the students of Hogwarts, but he wouldn't put it past Draco to agree without question to any of his father's dangerous ideas.
Meanwhile, Neville was in trouble. The strict segregation between the Gryffindor and Slytherin students prevented him from working close to Harry's table, but he had been hard at work by Hermione's side. In spite of the clever witch's constant instruction, Neville's potion had turned pumpkin orange when it should have been green.
"Deplorable work as always, Longbottom," Snape sneered as he lifted a ladle of the thick orange liquid and allowed it to dribble back into the cauldron for all the class to see. Harry scowled at the professor while several of his fellow Slytherins snickered at poor Neville's plight.
To his surprise, Blaise muttered a warning to Crabbe and Goyle to keep their big mouths shut. Draco's cronies seemed just as surprised to be checked by Zabini, because they quietly turned their eyes away from the spectacle of Snape tormenting Neville, and returned to their own potions, which were, if possible, even worse than Neville's.
"You're defending Neville now?," Harry said in an undertone to Blaise.
"I don't like other people making fun of him," Blaise said simply, "That's my job."
Harry grinned at him, but his amusement fled when Pansy Parkinson unexpectedly joined their group. Harry had never liked Pansy. She was forever glued to Draco's side, laughing at all of his terrible jokes and listening to his bragging as if it were the word of Merlin himself. She was obviously forcing herself into their group to get close to Draco once again.
Harry assumed Draco loved the attention, but to his surprise, a ssour look crossed Draco's face at Pansy's approach. If Harry didn't know better, he would think Draco was just as displeased to see her as the rest of them. The look passed as quickly as it had formed, leaving Harry wondering if he had been mistaken. Perhaps Draco's expression of distaste had been nothing more than a trick of the dim light in the dungeon classroom.
"How is your arm, Draco?" Pansy asked in a simpering tone that made Harry's skin crawl. "Does it hurt terribly?"
Draco cringed like a man who was enduring great suffering as he replied, "It does a bit. Madame Pomfrey said if we'd been a moment later, I might have lost my arm. But I'll be fine, so long as I have Potter to help with my assignments."
"You'll be lucky if we make it through this class without me dousing your arm in Shrinking Solution," Harry snapped back before he could think better of it.
Pansy's sharp eyes pierced Harry as she hissed, "You seem pretty confident for a dead man."
Millie's hand instantly gripped her wand. She shot Pansy a look which instantly quelled the shorter witch and whispered, "Explain yourself. Now."
Pansy, her eyes locked on Millie's wand in obvious terror, quickly whispered back, "You mean you haven't heard the news?"
Harry exchanged a look with Blaise, and they both shook their heads. Pansy glanced back toward Professor Snape, who had moved away from Neville, but continued to haunt the Gryffindor side of the classroom. Leaning closer to Harry from across the table, she said in an undertone, "Sirius Black was spotted not far from here."
Harry's hand slipped across a shrivelfig, nearly taking off his finger rather than a piece of the plant. He kept his eyes directed downward before demanding, "So?"
"Well, he's after you, isn't he? That's what everyone's saying. They say a muggle spotted him and reported it to their authorities, but of course, by the time the Ministry got word and sent some Aurors, he'd already gone."
"So we don't actually know it was him," Blaise said, unimpressed, "All we know is some muggle saw a guy who might have looked like him."
Harry noticed that Draco was listening intently to their conversation, staring at Harry all the while.
"What?" demanded Harry, throwing the last of Draco's prepped ingredients across the table at him, "If you've got something to say, just say it."
Draco didn't wait for a second invitation. "Are you going to go after Black?" he blurted.
It wasn't a taunt. Instead, to Harry's bewilderment, Draco looked worried. His expression reminded Harry of Minister Fudge, when he had warned Harry not to go looking for Sirius Black.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, "Everyone says he's out to kill me. Why would I want to go after him?"
It was Draco's turn to look surprised.
"You mean you don't know?" he asked, his voice now barely above a whisper.
"Quit messing around," said Blaise, "If you know something, just get on with it!"
Harry was no less curious to hear what Draco had to say, but at that moment, Snape announced that it was time to test Neville's potion. The victim would be Neville's toad, Trevor.
The class was ordered to gather around. Harry, with reluctance, joined the others as they waited to see what fate would befall the poor animal. Neville looked on anxiously, a few shining tears lingering in his eyes, as Professor Snape gathered a vial-full of the now light-green liquid, careful not to get a drop on himself or his black robes. Collectively, everyone held their breath, and the Potions Master dripped two small droplets of the potion onto the toad.
Instantly, Trevor the toad was gone, and a small, wriggling Trevor the pollywog remained. The class gave a great cheer at Neville's success, when in truth, the Shrinking Solution should have only made Trevor several sizes smaller, not younger. But the potion had not killed the toad, and no one, not even the Slytherin students, were in a mood to watch a defenseless animal slain.
Snape's lip curled disdainfully as he drew another small vial from one of his pockets and restored Trevor to his original size.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he said, silencing the cheers and congratulations of the Gryffindor students, "I said you were not supposed to help him, Miss Granger."
Hermione lowered her face in shame. It was true that Neville would never have been able to make even this approximate attempt at a Shrinking Solution without help from the smartest girl in class, but Harry couldn't help but feel that Snape was, once again, being unfair to the Gryffindor students. He should be rewarding Hermione for making Neville's atrocious potion non-lethal, not punishing her for it.
"Don't worry about it, Neville," Harry said, taking the first opportunity to slip close to the Gryffidor's side as they left the classroom. "No one blames you for the points. Snape's the most spiteful teacher in this school. Everyone knows it."
Harry looked to Blaise for his support. He hoped Blaise might show a little kindness to Neville, since he came to defense earlier.
Blaise caught the obvious meaning behind Harry's look and rolled his eyes before saying, "Yeah, he'd find any excuse to take points from Gryffindor, whether your potion was trash or not."
Neville nodded his head to show that he'd heard them, but he kept his face firmly directed to the floor.
Harry, thinking he would extend a compliment to Hermione for her efforts, turned to congratulate her on her potion, which Snape failed to mention had been the only perfectly successful Shrinking Solution in the class. But when he turned to face her, she wasn't there.
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked Millie, who was climbing the stairs up from the dungeons. He'd assumed Hermione was with her, but Millie merely shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm here!" Hermione called a bit breathlessly. She was still at the very bottom of the landing, hurrying up the stairs with her schoolbag bursting with heavy textbooks.
Harry didn't know what to make of this. He could have sworn Hermione was right next to them when they'd left the classroom. How did she end back at the bottom of the stairs? He assumed she must have left one of her books behind and ran back to get it, but as he turned back toward Neville, he noticed an odd look on the Gryffindor's face.
"She's been doing things like that since the start of term," Neville said to Harry in an undertone.
Before Harry could say anything more, Hermione had rejoined their party, and any questions about her strange antics were met with stubborn denial.
"Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about," was all she would say. The topic was then promptly dropped.
Harry hadn't had an opportunity to speak to Professor Lupin since they'd parted from the Hogwarts Express. Hermione and Neville told Harry over breakfast the following day that they'd had a spectacular lesson with him, and Harry was burning with jealousy. He demanded a report from his Gryffindor friends on everything the new teacher said and did, but the information did little to sate his curiosity, and merely left him hungering for more.
Harry had a great deal of respect for Professor Lupin after their train ride. After all, it had been Lupin who banished the dementor from their cabin. It would be interesting to see what his lessons would be like.
The hour finally arrived when Harry would have a chance to experience a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Lupin first-hand. He wasn't disappointed as they walked into class and saw that the desks and chairs had been shunted off to the side, leaving a wide space for the students to fan out around the professor. Sitting on the floor behind him was a large, heavy trunk. A few of the students, Harry included, gave a start as the trunk made a sudden jump a few inches off the ground, landing again with a heavy thunk.
"Don't mind that," Lupin said as the class made their way forward with more caution. "Come, gather round. Our lesson will be a practical one today. I wonder if I might start with a volunteer for a brief demonstration?"
The class stared at the trunk, which was now shaking slightly, and said nothing. Harry stepped eagerly forward, wondering if the professor planned to teach them the same spell he'd used against the dementor.
But Professor Lupin didn't seem to notice him. He looked around at every other face and asked, "No one? That's strange. The Gryffindors were stepping all over each other to have a go yesterday."
The Slytherin students weren't falling for it. They continued to stare at him blankly, while Harry resorted to raising his hand and waving it about, hoping to attract the professor's attention. Blaise casually grabbed Harry's arm and forced him to put it back at his side.
"Very well, then. Miss Bulstrode? Might I have your assistance?" asked Professor Lupin when he saw that no one else intended to volunteer.
Millie scowled and turned to Harry, looking as if she wanted to offer him in her stead. But Blaise, with a wicked grin, boldly pushed her forward, and she had no choice but to comply with the professor's request.
"Excellent! Thank you," Lupin said, "Now, the creature in that trunk is a boggart. They feed on fear, and are thwarted by laughter. They are relatively harmless, but to survive, they take the form of the thing the viewer fears the most. Now, in a classroom of this size, the boggart will be forced to focus on one person at a time."
He was directing the majority of his comments to Millie, but he had a way of speaking that engaged every student present, almost like having a tutor or private instructor. The rest of the class was now hanging on his words, craning their necks to see what would happen when the trunk was opened.
"Now then, Miss Bulstrode. The spell to counter a boggart is very simple. First, you must picture the thing that you fear the most."
Millie gave him a skeptical look that was easy to understand, even without words.
Lupin chuckled and said, "I understand, but the boggart's ability to feed off our fears is at an advantage if we give it the element of surprise. It's best to acknowledge our own fears first, and then be prepared for how we are going to face it."
Lupin turned to the rest of the class, adding, "I want all of you to imagine what it is you fear, then think of what makes that thing scary. The spell I'm about to teach you is meant to take those frightful things, and make them laughable. So after you've imagined what the boggart may become, I want you to focus on what you can do to make that thing funny."
The students were still silent, but it was a silence born of concentration, not indifference. Each student was busy picturing the thing they feared the most. Some even had their eyes shut tight. Harry racked his brains to think of what he feared. His first thought, naturally, was Lord Voldemort. Harry had faced several frightening encounters the dark wizard, but in each situation, he'd faced his fears and came out triumphant. It was hard to think of Voldemort as scary now, especially when Harry pictured the incarnation he'd seen his first year – more a revolting parasite than something to inspire terror.
"Have you all thought of something?" Lupin asked after a few seconds had passed. He then resumed his instruction, once again directing his comments to Millie as he prepared her for the demonstration.
"Now Miss Bulstrode, I want you to think of the thing that scares you, and focus not on your fear, but on what would make it comical to you. Picture that in your mind, and say Riddikulus."
"Riddikulus," Millie recited, and the entire class echoed her example.
Lupin nodded his head in approval, then stepped away from Millie's side. He stood behind the quivering trunk, his wand at the ready. He looked up to Millie, awaiting a signal from her to show that she was prepared. Millie was glaring with determination at the trunk, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, pointing it in front of her defensively. After a moment, she nodded her head with resolution, and Lupin opened the lid of the trunk with a flick of his own wand.
There was a brief moment in which nothing moved or made a sound. Then a hand reached out of the trunk, and a boy pulled himself out of its depths. He had black hair, light eyes, and in his other hand, he held an old, tattered diary. Turning toward the class, his eyes fell on Millie, and he offed a handsome smile.
Tom Riddle began to push himself to his feet, climbing out of the trunk and walking slowly toward Millie while the rest of the class looked on in confusion, wondering why Millie should be scared of an attractive boy in Slytherin house robes.
But Harry understood perfectly, and it came as no surprise to him when Millie panicked.
Forgetting the spell she was supposed to use, Millie pointed her wand at Riddle's chest and screamed, "Bombarda!"
The Riddle boggart was knocked clear off his feet, blasted backward until he toppled back into the trunk, whose lid fell shut with a loud snap. Professor Lupin, who had been standing directly behind the boggart, received part of the blast, and fell backward from the force of the spell.
The class gasped, but Lupin began to laugh as he climbed back to his feet.
"Well, that's certainly one way to take care of a boggart," he said, his kind smile restoring some ease to the tense students.
Millie was still pale. Harry, standing closest to her, could see her wand hand shaking.
"Shall we try again?" Lupin asked kindly. It was not a command. He was giving Millie the option to step down if she preferred.
But Harry knew that Millie's confidence would be shattered if she was not able to face this challenge now. She'd always been the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she was not the kind of girl to crumble out of fear.
Leaning closer to her, Harry whispered into her ear, "Mr. Molded Violator."
Millie burst out laughing. Harry had told Millie of his "Tom Marvolo Riddle" anagrams after their trials in the Chamber last year, as way to make light of the terrible situation they'd both found themselves in. The reminder of young Tom Riddle's childish re-branding, leading to the name people feared to mention to this day, caused Millie to break into a fit of giggles.
The words had been too quiet for Professor Lupin to hear, but he had noticed Harry's whispering. No doubt he realized that Harry was the cause for Millie's sudden change in attitude, and he looked curious to see what would happen next.
"Go ahead, Professor," said Millie when she had stifled her giggles, and Lupin, positioning himself to the side of the trunk this time, flicked the lid open again.
Once more, the familiar face of Tom Riddle lifted his head out of the trunk, scowling rather than smiling. He pushed himself upright, stalking menacingly toward Millie as he held out a twin of his old diary.
"Riddikulus," Millie said with perfect ease, and an instant later, bright, shimmering letters appeared above the Riddle boggart's head.
Mr. Molded Violator, the letters spelled, before re-arranging themselves to Immortal Dove Lord.
The true hilariousness of the joke was lost on the Slytherin students, as only Blaise knew the full truth of the Chamber of Secrets and the identity of the Heir of Slytherin. But the anagrams were funny enough in themselves to make the students start to laugh, and Millie grinned at the confused expression on the boggart's face with a self-satisfied smirk.
As the letters continued to re-arrange themselves into more and more nonsensical arraignments, Professor Lupin congratulated Millie on a job well-done, and ordered the students to form a single file-line so that they could each take turns facing their fears in the form of an increasingly irate boggart.
Harry didn't expect a group of stodgy Slytherins to be eager to share their deepest fears with their classmates, so he was surprised to see everyone jump in line quickly.
Pansy Parkinson forced her way to the front, and as the boggart focused its attention on her, the handsome face of Tom Riddle transformed into a ghastly pale face with long white fangs. The vampire opened its arms and advanced toward Pansy, who quickly lifted her wand and shouted the spell with confidence, then with a crack, the vampire's fangs fell from his mouth and began to clatter about the floor like a pair of novelty false teeth.
The rest of the students took their turns in quick succession, with the boggart transforming into everything from a rotting zombie to a wriggling mass of tentacles to a headless horseman.
Harry was making his way toward the front of the line, craning his neck to see around Blaise's shoulder, as Draco stepped forward. He seemed confident, until the boggart – a mummified corpse that had just had its bandages charmed to a pink paisley patter – transformed into the dirty, haggard form of Sirius Black.
Unlike Tom Riddle, the escaped convict was easy to recognize. They had seen nothing in the papers but his face for several weeks now. Many students screamed, and Harry merely stared at the tall figure, shocked that this was what Draco most feared.
Whatever Draco had been expecting the boggart to turn into, it clearly wasn't this. His wand hung uselessly at his side as he stared at the boggart in terror. Everyone's laughter had died away, and the boggart, stunned by the mirth before, quickly regained strength as it turned toward Draco, sensed his terror, and jumped toward him.
"Out of the way, idiot!" Blaise commanded, jumping in front of Draco before the boggart could touch him. The boggart's attention shifted to the boy directly in front of him, and in a blink, it had transformed from the ragged form of Sirius Black into a huge, hairy, wolf-like beast. The werewolf halted and bared its fangs with a menacing growl directly into Blaise's face.
Harry had no doubt that Blaise would not freeze in the face of his worst fear the way Draco had, but before his friend could lift his wand, Professor Lupin had directed his own at the would-be beast, and said almost lazily, "Riddikulus."
The towering werewolf shrunk in size until it was no larger than a chihuahua, and it snarls were nothing more than petulant barks. Rendered to its new, non-threatening size, Professor Lupin banished it back to the depths of the trunk with another wave of his wand. The lid fell shut again, and this time it locked itself with an audible click.
"Right then, that's enough excitement for one day," Lupin said brightly, offering a smile to his slightly shaken class, "Excellent work, everyone. Twenty points to Mr. Zabini for his quick thinking, and another 10 points to everyone who faced the boggart. I'll want an essay by next week on what gives the boggart such power over us. Class dismissed."
Harry never had a chance to face the boggart himself, but he wasn't worried about that now. He was furious with Draco, but the reasoning behind his anger was complicated. He felt absurdly entitled to Sirius Black. Everyone knew he was after Harry, and Draco had no right to be more frightened of him than Harry was himself.
"What was that about?" Harry demanded as he caught up to Draco just outside their classroom.
Draco attempted to ignore him, telling Crabbe and Goyle to hurry up. But Harry wasn't going to accept another evasion. He pushed past the human wall that was Crabbe and Goyle, gripped Draco by the shoulder, and spun him around.
"Answer me, Malfoy! What have you got to fear from Black?"
"Lay off, Potter!" Draco shouted, shaking Harry's hand off him.
Harry was certain that either Crabbe or Goyle would have pummeled him right then, had not Blaise and Millie run to his defense. While his friends did their best to distract Draco's cronies, Harry continued to demand answers.
"You seemed awfully interested in what Parkinson was saying yesterday," Harry said, "Afraid your father's old Death Eater pal might show up and demand your help?"
"Black's not a Death Eater!" Draco shouted. Harry couldn't help but notice that he didn't say anything about his father's allegiance.
"Yes he was! Everyone knows he supported Voldemort! So why should you be afraid of him?"
Draco flinched at Harry's use of the Dark Lord's name and finally came clean, "That's just it! He wasn't a Death Eater, but he did betray your parents."
Harry's anger cooled slightly. He didn't understand what Draco was talking about, but the mention of his parents took the edge off his turbulent emotions, and he looked at Draco again with confusion.
"I can't believe no one's told you," Draco said, staring at Harry with wide, worried eyes, "Everyone thought that Black hated the Dark Lord, that he was even fighting to defeat him... But then, after you were born, he betrayed your parents and led the Dark Lord right to them... He's the reason your parents are dead."