Atlas just barely reminded himself to stop reading and head for Defense class.
When he arrives to the classroom he finds Mina stood outside. She peers at him and while not commenting on his skipping she does remark "you missed out on Snape nearly making Longbottom kill his toad." She frowns, "it was rather extreme."
"Sounds about par for the course with Snape." He shrugs, settling his stuff at the table with her beside him. Theodore and Daphne grab the spots ahead of them, a thing he's grateful for as he'd much rather them than whinging Malfoy with Parkinson swooning over his injury.
"Heard anything about the new professor?" Theodore asks, leaning back over his chair towards the two of them.
"Not really," Atlas says glancing about the space, not much had changed to indicate that this year would be any better than last.
"Neither have I," Mina frowns. "But if Dumbledore hired him—"
"Then he's either of the sniveling skittish sort or is unduly obsessed with himself," Atlas interrupts. "Just going off of previous examples that we know of."
"Makes you wonder what all the rest have been like too." Daphne ponders.
"Probably just as bad if none stuck around."
"Haven't you heard?" Mina smiles deviously as she often does with information she finds interesting or even just fun, "the position is cursed."
"Us wizards like to say everything is a curse or ill omen." Atlas bemoans, "hardly anything ever really is."
"I heard it was the Dark Lord himself who did it." Theodore chimes in, after leaning closer so that just their small little grouping could hear it.
"Why would he bother with that?" Atlas asks.
Theodore shrugs, "who knows. Just something I heard."
Atlas rolls his eyes and leans further back in his chair, sighing as he struggles to get comfortable. Mina glances his way and he shrugs, before settling on sitting forward instead, hunching over and resting on the desk with his chin on his hands.
The unheard of Professor Lupin arrived to the class shortly thereafter, setting down a rather worn looking briefcase that resembled his worn looking clothing. He rounded the desk, leaning against it and looking over the assorted class with a vague smile upon his lips.
"Good afternoon," he says, "would you please all put your books back in your bags. Today will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."
Off to an interesting start to say the least, as this would be the first real practical lesson they've had in this class.
He and the rest of the students stand off to the back of classroom as Lupin moves his wand, the desks all moving to clear out the class before he turns and points it towards a back room of the class. The door opening and out coming a shaking wardrobe. Most of the students move forward, just a bit to fill the room better and get closer looks. Atlas stays stood near the wall and door, with his housemates all nearby.
Atlas lifts his chin, looking at the rattling furniture and feeling a small bit of apprehension form in the back of his head.
"Intriguing," Professor Lupin remarks, "isn't it?" The wardrobe gives another sudden wobble, and a few near the front jump back at it. "Nothing to worry about," he says calmly, "would anyone care to venture a guess as to what is within?"
"That's a boggart, that is." A Gryffindor boy near the front states.
"Very good Mr. Thomas." The wardrobe rattles again and Atlas thinks on what he's read on boggarts.
"Now can anybody tell me what a boggart looks like?"
Atlas glances at the wardrobe as Granger speaks up, "Nobody knows, it's a shapeshifter." Atlas looks to her now, she's looking to the Professor. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us the most." She looks to the wardrobe, "that's what makes them so…"
"Terrifying, yes. Yes." Lupin walks towards the wardrobe, it shaking violently again though the Professor doesn't even flinch. "Luckily a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart."
Riddikulus. Atlas thinks even before the Professor continues on, thinking back on the skimming he did of the textbook.
"Lets practice it now." He leads the students through the spell, without wands, and Atlas just watches the wardrobe. Wondering a bit at what it will come out as. "The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing."
Atlas crosses his arms, watching with curiosity and caution as Lupin calls Longbottom forward. The boy looking very unfitting for Gryffindor with the way he sheepishly moves forward, taking his place where the Professor directed him.
"Right, Neville," Lupin says, "first things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" Silence followed, and Lupin spoke again, "didn't catch that, Neville, sorry."
Longbottom glanced around wildly before looking down a bit, "Professor Snape." He says, still only barely more than a whisper.
Several students laughed, Atlas could see Malfoy jeering with Crabbe and Goyle. Atlas just shook his head, a bit ridiculous he thought, that a students worst fear was their teacher.
"Poor Neville." Mina remarks beside him, "understandable though, considering Potions this morning."
Atlas glanced to her, the girl studying Longbottom and the wardrobe. "Getting soft for Gryffindors now?"
She rolls her eyes and waves him off with a smile, "look at him, he's shaking. And I have a sympathetic heart."
"Most would say that's unfitting of Slytherin." Theodore remarks in a whisper as Lupin continues on, going onto something regarding Longbottoms grandmother.
Mina shakes her head, "that's stereotyping."
"No most of us Slytherins are just prats." Theodore smirks, and she swats at him.
Lupin turns to the class, addressing them all as he says, "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…"
The room fell quiet, save the occasional rattle and bang of the boggart in the wardrobe.
The thing that scares Atlas the most…
He frowns, and crossed his arms tighter as he looked over the class that would be an audience to each others fears.
"Everyone ready?" Professor Lupin asks. After a moment he motions for them all to step back, leaving Longbottom alone at the front before the wardrobe. He looked frightened, so close to pissing his pants that Atlas hoped someone had a scouring charm ready to clean it up.
"On the count of three, Neville." Professor Lupin says as he points his wand to the handle of the wardrobe. "One—two—three— now!" The wardrobe burst open, and out stepped Professor Snape.
He walked menacingly towards Longbottom, who was shaking further as Snape reached into his robes slowly.
"R-r-riddikulus!" Neville squeaks out in a shout.
And suddenly Professor Snape was dressed about as ridiculously as one could ever imagine. Lace-trimmed dress, a hat topped with a bird, and a crimson handbag in hand.
Laughter swelled through the class and Lupin called forth the next student, "Next, Ron!"
Atlas didn't laugh, even if the sight of Snape had been a hilarious one. He watched, with sinking dread, as fear after fear of each student was presented. A spider formed before Weasley, felled with roller skates. "Parvati, forward!" A bandaged mummy came forth before the girl, and she unraveled it with the spell until it got tangled about the feet and fell.
Student after student. From a Banshee, to a rat, to a rattlesnake, to a severed hand. Laughter bubbling even in the midst of their fears being shown to the world.
Lupin calling forth student after student, until finally he called "Atlas, you next!"
But Atlas has already slipped out from the room.
He's departing the Great Hall after breakfast the next morning, heading with Mina towards their morning Transfigurations class when Professor Lupin stops him.
"Mr. Black, a word if you would?"
Atlas sighs, "don't want to be late for Transfigurations, Professor." And for one class that wasn't a lie, he actually enjoys Transfigurations, both the subject and class which was not often accomplished it seemed for Atlas.
"I'll be sure to let McGonagall know it was me that kept you," Lupin remarks, a vague smile to his lips. "Don't worry about that."
Atlas scowls, but nods and after giving a short goodbye to Mina he follows the Professor. The man leads him through the castle until they arrive in the Defense classroom. The wardrobe still sat in the center of the room for this day of classes it seemed. It rattled almost menacingly as they walked around it to get to Lupins office.
"Tea?" Lupin inquired, as he walked about the office space and to a small table where a kettle rested.
"No thanks, Professor," Atlas crosses his arms and stays near the door. "I'd prefer whatever it is you wished to talk with me over done quickly, so I could return to class."
"So is it just my class you prefer to skip out of?" Lupin had a grin that was nearing cheeky as he taps the kettle even despite Atlas's refusal, a blast of steam bursting from the spout.
Atlas raised a brow, "if it makes you feel better I skipped out of Potions yesterday as well."
"Perhaps it does," Lupin chuckles."I have wondered what Severus is like as a teacher."
"Decent," Atlas shrugs. "But prefers berating his students over telling us anything that isn't already accessible in the books."
Lupin shakes his head at that as he pours two cups, putting tea bags into the chipped mugs. "I trust you had at least a good reason for slipping out of mine, seeing as you took the trouble to show up in the first place." He holds out the mug, and Atlas tentatively takes it, if only for the sake of having a bit of tea.
He sips, it was decent enough, "sure."
Lupin eyes him over his own mug, studying him like he's trying to place something within Atlas. It was a look that Atlas recognized, and it made him study the Professor back as he wonders whether the man was looking for his father or his uncle in this moment.
"And that would be?" Lupin asks after a sip of his tea. "If you were feeling ill, I'd prefer you inform me either before making your exit or soon after the fact if you could."
"I wasn't ill." Atlas sipped the tea.
Lupin just nodded, and sipped at his tea in silence evidently willing to wait Atlas out.
Well, Atlas figured he could play that game easily enough.
He sipped his tea and stared back.
They sit in the tenuous silence, the only sound the occasionally rattling wardrobe out in the classroom and them sipping at their tea.
But eventually, after Atlas has finished his tea and set it on a table nearby him only to cross his arms and continue his stubborn silence, Lupin sighs and sets his own mug down. "It is normal to be afraid of a boggart, it is their purpose after all."
"I wasn't afraid of the boggart." Atlas defends, even as he listens to the rattling behind him and dreads over what might have come out.
Lupin raises a brow, "then what was it?"
He sighs, glancing at a clock upon the wall and figuring he'd played this out long enough. He really didn't want to miss much more of Transfigurations. "I prefer not to have what will supposedly frighten me most broadcasted before a load of people I neither know nor care for."
Lupin nods, giving him a serious look before he asks, "Did you have some expectation for what would come out?"
Atlas keeps quiet. He doesn't know this man, and didn't particularly want to air his fears out before him.
After a few more beats of silence Lupin finally sighs, glancing at the clock himself. "As you did not participate in class I must dock you points, but if you would like to make them back all I'd require is that you show that you can perform the spell as intended. My next class won't start for another thirty minutes if you'd—"
"I'd rather not." Atlas interrupts, "I'll take the docked points, I'm sure I'll figure some way to re-earn them eventually, and if not…" he shrugs.
Lupin eyes him, again with that look like he's searching for or seeing something that Atlas wishes he wouldn't.
"Will that be all, Professor?" Atlas asks blankly.
Lupin sighs, and nods. "If you change you mind, Atlas, just let me know."
Atlas nods as he turns to leave, but he doubted he would.
When he arrives in the next Potions class Snape gives him a narrowed look but little else. Exactly what Atlas had expected really, the man held fast to his principles and one them was that he rarely if ever took points from his own house.
When he arrives in his next few Defense classes the wardrobe is gone and Lupin doesn't inquire further with him about making up his lost points. Instead they move on into different subjects, all as useful and interesting as the first. Proving perhaps that Lupin was definitely the best of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors that the school has had in at least the last few years.
Divination is as much a sham as always as the weeks go on, but at least Atlas gets used to the hazy smell of incense and finds he does actually enjoy the tea and more comfortable chairs that the Professor has given.
He actually enjoys his Study of Ancient Runes, finding the subject intriguing and challenging enough to capture his interest. While Arithmancy goes as well as he expects, easy and interesting, far more so than Divination.
Transfiguration is as enjoyable as always, and Herbology is as not enjoyable as well. He didn't like standing out in the Greenhouses, and he was dreading when they got back into Mandrakes as the screams had always left him with a headache even with the earmuffs muffling the sound.
History of Magic proved as good for napping as ever, so long as Atlas could get himself comfortable in the chair and desk. Charms was hit or miss on whether it would be interesting, all depending on how useful the magic proved to be, or how much of a challenge the spell proved as it was always more fun to challenge himself.
The weeks passed, and he tried to push the thought of the boggart from his mind.
He knew what it would be. He did. At least he believed he did. He didn't need to go and look to see for certain. It's best if he doesn't, and at this point going to Professor Lupin and asking to would be admitting… well not defeat but admitting something Atlas doesn't want to admit. Whatever that is.
But that doesn't stop him from spending his Defense classes wondering, and glancing towards the office where the boggart, if not gotten rid of completely, likely resides now.
He doesn't want to know. Doesn't want confirmation.
And even if he did, he glances to where Professor Lupin talks about kappas, he doesn't want to share it with anyone outside of himself.
His curiosity, that he tries to deny in this regard at least, meets its end near the middle of October. Atlas resolves to at least see for himself, he doesn't care about the points, he just… wishes to know what the boggart would become.
So one night he makes his way out of the Slytherin common rooms after hours. Quietly moving through the halls so as to avoid any patrolling prefects, or Merlin forbid the damned Mrs. Norris.
Making his way to the Defense classroom he enters the quiet space and walks towards the office. The door is locked but the charm to undo it is simple enough that Atlas barely even worries over it.
When he enters he scans the space. And shoved into the back was the wardrobe, still at the moment but as soon as Atlas got within a few steps of it it gave a sharp rattle as whatever was within seemed to gather sense of his presence.
He stares, his wand tight in his hand and wonders.
He runs over the spell in his head, rolls the word in his mouth silently, and with a lazy flick of his wand opens the door.
For a second it's quiet, deathly so almost, and nothing seems to emerge. But in the dark light of the room a mirror appears looming before Atlas.
He steps, hesitantly towards it, his reflection appearing before him and his mind whirs through the possible meanings behind the boggarts choice of fear.
Then the reflection shifts, and he spots a figure he's only ever seen in paintings and photographs. His father stood in the mirrors glass, and as Atlas stepped back so did his father, directly reflecting his movements. When Atlas leaned forward though the reflection shifted suddenly again, to that of the image of his uncle. One he's only ever seen recently in the paper, as his grandmother had long ago gotten rid of any sign of Sirius Black's presence in Grimmauld Place.
Atlas's jaw clenches tight, and he grips his wand. Absurd, he thinks, a silly little fear that meant nothing.
"Do not disappoint me, that was all I ever asked." He jumps at the sudden echoing noise of his grandmothers voice in his ears, and he glances around only to find her nowhere.
Of course she's not there.
Clever, he thinks, looking at the mirror with his chin lifting. It was shifting, between him and his father and uncle. And his grandmother spoke, hissed, in his head further. "But you've failed, like them. I should have known. You were never good enough to do as I'd hoped."
Atlas's stomach swoops, and he raises his wand. "Riddikulus," He forces out, sick of the noise and this sight and sick to the stomach.
"Weak, since you were a babe." The reflection of his father flinches.
The mirror shifts, but the boggart holds true to shape. And Atlas swallows hard, "Riddikulus." He states, forcing his voice clearer, forcing his wand steady.
"Shouldn't have even let you be born," his grandmother— not his grandmother, the boggart hisses in his ears further. "Let them kill you and your mother both."
Atlas's wand drops in a clatter to the floor and he stares at the shifting image, frozen and unmoving. "A failure like Sirius, a failure like even your father… such high hopes and even he… you've followed his steps. Failed like he did, so close and yet—"
Atlas's fist his the glass of the mirror, the glass splintering just as his fathers face was shifting to Sirius's. The boggart made a strange sort of sound, the mixture of glass shattering and something inhuman. Atlas staggered back, and as he did another figure stepped in front of him, the shape of the shattered mirror boggart shifting quickly into that of a moon.
"Riddikulus." Professor Lupin recites clearly, and the moon goes out like a balloon loosing all its air. And Lupin walks towards it until it returns to the wardrobe.
Atlas stares at it, his jaw tight and his breath heavy as the sound of his grandmothers voice still echoed in his mind even with the door of the wardrobe slamming shut.
Lupin whirls to look at him, concern and confusion both wrapped tight on his features.
Atlas didn't want to know how much of his boggart the professor had seen.
Lupin is quiet for a few moments, clearly lost for how to attack this conversation. "If you wished to make up the points…"
"I didn't." Atlas forces out, his hand was still fisted tight, and he could feel something wet upon his knuckles dripping. He glances at the wardrobe, "I was just curious."
Lupin nods, "still." He pauses, looking to the wardrobe himself, "I would have preferred you ask permission first, for your safety at the least."
Atlas frowned, deep and torn. "I had it fine." He hadn't, and it bothered him more than he liked.
Silence followed, before Lupin let out a sigh and stepped towards him. Atlas took a step back, raising his chin. And Lupin nodded, "you should go see Madam Pomfrey, for your hand. I'll walk you so Filch doesn't think you're out of bed unsupervised."
"I am out of bed unsupervised." Atlas points out, a bit petulant at this point.
Lupin smiles and shrugs, "perhaps at first, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him." He nods towards the door and after a moment of considering refusal Atlas sighs and turns sharply on his feet to walk towards the door.
They walk in silence through the halls, and slowly Atlas's hand starts to hurt more and more. A sharp burn of pain along his knuckles. He glances at it once and sees several spots of blood. No glass though, and he frowned more in confusion than actual anger now.
He glances to Lupin, and figures he might as well ask, the man was a decent professor even if Atlas was worried about what Lupin might have seen this evening. "Why did it break, when I punched it, if it is just taking the shape of it?"
Lupin examined him, and after a moment answered, "the boggart doesn't actually become whatever it takes the form of, but it does take on some properties of whatever it is. So when it became a mirror, it took on some properties of glass. Including, evidently, the fact that it can break."
"It didn't seem to like me hitting it." Atlas mutters.
"No," Lupin chuckles just the smallest bit, "and I must admit it's certainly a different way of dealing with a boggart, one I haven't heard of before."
"Probably because it isn't effective." Atlas replies deadpan.
Lupin considers, "we don't really know that." He smiles, "it certainly didn't reform right away."
Atlas hums his acknowledgment, and looks away from the Professor.
It's quiet for a few moments more, and Atlas can practically feel the weight of whatever thoughts Lupin is having between them. Finally he speaks, slowly and carefully as though approaching some wild beast, "I might not be able to assist much, but if there is some trouble you need…"
"I don't need anything from you, Professor." Atlas replies sharply.
Lupin sighs, looking to Atlas as they near the hospital wing. "I won't pretend to understand much about your situation."
"I don't have any sort of situation." Atlas snaps, very much over this line of questioning.
"But," Lupin barrels over him, and a bit apprehensively as he went, "I once knew someone who had very similar difficulties at home."
Atlas stopped in his steps, his jaw clicking as he tightened it to the point of soreness. "Which? My father or my uncle? Just so I know exactly who you are comparing me to." He stares Professor Lupin down, hard and blank.
Lupin comes to a stop, facing Atlas square and sighing, "I was in the same year as your uncle." The way he said it leant to the possibility of their being more to that statement, but Atlas ignored that, didn't care to learn more.
"Wonderful," Atlas looks away, his brow furrowing and he glances at his hand. "Well, whatever difficulties he held as a child don't worry, my own are fine, nothing I can't handle alone." Atlas looked back to Lupin, and found the man looking at him closely. "And I would prefer not to be compared to him, for plenty of reasons, so whatever similarity you are seeing between me and that man who has been dead to my family for many years, please push it far from your mind."
"I understand." Lupin says calmly.
"I don't believe you do," Atlas remarks cooly, he looks to where the entrance of the hospital wing sits not far away. "Thank you, Professor, for walking me. But I would like this conversation to find its end."
It's a moment before Lupin nods, and the two start walking in a silence even tenser than before. Atlas is handed off to Pomfrey after Lupin wakes her, and she fusses about his hand for several minutes with a few spells and a poultice.
She lets him stay in one of the beds for the evening, to save him the walk back to the dungeons. And he lays staring at the arched stone ceilings of the hospital wing, with the reminder of the weight of his uncle, the ghost of his father, and the still echoing voice of the boggart pretending to be his grandmother.
All of it hitting far too close for his comfort.
Eventually he falls asleep to dreams of shattering glass that fragments into reflections of his father, his uncle, and finally him.
Thank you as always for reading, please let me know your thoughts!