September 1993.

In no time at all, Defence Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favourite class.

The murmur of the class quickly faded when Remus entered, his suitcase in his hand and a friendly smile on his face. The first-year Ravenclaws watched him in eager anticipation, while he put his suitcase on the table. The schoolyear was only a few days old, but Remus, "professor Lupin" as the students called him, had already gained a reputation among the first-years of being friendly and easy-going. But, he thought, that probably had something to do with their first potions lesson. Even McGonagall, Remus mused, was friendly and easy-going compared to Snape.

"Goodmorning," he said aloud, and the students muttered something back to the effect of "goodmorning professor Lupin".

"Today I´ll tell you something about gnomes. Has anyone of you ever seen one?"

Several students raised their hands up in the air; no surprise, because gnomes were commonly found in gardens.

Perhaps that was the secret of Remus' success: his love for the time-honoured fieldwork, for actually doing the things he told about, and his tendency to keep his examples close to home, in this case the garden. Practically everybody in his class had at least once encountered a gnome in their garden, so most of the students could relate to what Remus was telling.

He started the lesson with a few anecdotes from his own garden, then easily switched to the distinctive of a gnome and the way one can get rid of gnomes. The class obediently wrote down notes, paid attention to what their teacher was saying; it was in every way an easy lesson. Teaching turned out to be one of Remus' natural talents. Some people were good at flying, others showed talent in charms, to give some examples, but Remus' talent was teaching. He liked teaching stuff, educating children, and he had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

The bell that signalled the end of this lesson came as a surprise. When he saw his students practically run out of the classroom, Remus figured giving homework would be no use; they would not hear it anyway. And besides, he was a bit in a hurry himself; it was time for lunch, and he was hungry… 

~*~

Friday September 6, 1993.

Lunch. Snape is glaring at me. No, wait, rectification: Snape is glaring at me again. Greasy nitwit.

Dumbledore and McGonagall are talking about advanced transfiguration, and I don't understand a thing of it. But then, the only thing I remember from Transf. is how to become an Animagus. Anyway, it must be a sign of how high the level of education is here: a teacher doesn't even understand what the other teachers are talking about. Well, sometimes nobody understand Dumbledore at all, but… never mind.

Hagrid it giving me funny looks. He probably think it's weird to write while you're eating. Let's wave at him; hiyah Hagrid.

Oh, and hiyah Snape. Enjoying your – whatever it is you're eating, I probably don't even want to know. Yeah, that's right, glare at the Gryffindors for a change. Which reminds me, if my memory's correct, I´ll be teaching Harry this afternoon. Let me check my timetable – yup. Third year Gryffindors. Let's hope they're nicer that the third year Slytherins I had yesterday…

O darn, two minutes left, practically everybody is already gone. I better get going then…

~*~

The door of the classroom was open, and with his sensitive ears, Remus could hear the noise of the class from some distance. He smiled inwardly when he thought about the lesson he'd prepared. A few days ago, Filch had found a Boggart in one of the wardrobes in the staffroom. Remus had asked Dumbledore to leave the creature in it. It would make a nice practical lesson. Children liked it, and his own experience told him that you learn better when you've done something yourself.

Remus entered the classroom. The chatting vanished and the students were looking at him expectantly. He noticed Harry and his friends sitting together in the last row.

"Good afternoon," Remus said, placing his old suitcase on the desk. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands." He grinned inwardly when he saw their surprised and curious reactions as everybody put their books away. Clearly, they'd never had a practical lesson before.

Remus waited patiently until everyone was ready to go. "Right then," he said. "If you'd follow me."

The students followed him through the deserted corridors, up and down some stairs, to the Staff room. Unfortunately, they found their road blocked halfway; Peeves the Poltergeist was floating in mid-air, upside-down, and busy stuffing something that looked like chewing gum in the keyhole of a door, apparently a closet for broomsticks.

The Poltergeist didn't seem to have noticed their presence until Remus was about two feet away. Peeves suddenly looked up, wiggled his feet and broke into a very off-key song. "Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin!" he sang – a song Remus hadn't heard in years, but immediately recognised from his own schooldays. Being original was hard indeed.

The students behind Remus seemed somewhat astonished by the Poltergeist's rude behaviour, but Remus himself was merely amused and rather unimpressed.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

He hadn't really expected Peeves to do as he told him. The annoying poltergeist just ignored him and blew a loud wet raspberry.

Remus gave a small sigh and took out his wand. What was the best spell for this? In his head, he heard Peter whine at James and him: "Sirius put chewing gum in the lock of my trunk and now I can't open it anymore!" Ah, but of course.

"This is a useful little spell," he told the silent class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "Waddiwasi! "and pointed it at Peeves.

The effect was as spectacular as he remembered it. The disgusting-looking and apparently chewed on wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole, straight through Peeves´s left nostril. The poltergeist abruptly turned upright again and zoomed away, shouting words the students of Hogwarts were definitely not allowed to say.

"Cool, sir!" said a boy Remus recognised as Dean Thomas, sounding impressed.

"Thank you, Dean," he replied casually, pocketing his wand again. "Shall we proceed?"

They walked on, a soft and respectful murmur behind him. A corridor later, they were standing in front of the door to the staffroom.

"Inside please," said Remus, opening the door and stepping back to allow everyone to enter.

The staffroom was a long, panelled room, filled with old but comfortable chairs that didn't match each other. It had a huge fireplace, perfect for cold and long evenings. There were several bookcases and closets containing the most fascinating magical objects along the wall. There was a painting with the four founders of Hogwarts above the mantelpiece, and next to the fireplace there were four hourglasses, one for every house, showing how much points each house had earned or lost. 

There were no teachers in the staffroom, except for one, accidentally the last person Remus wanted to see now. Snape was sitting in a low armchair made of dark carved wood and black velvet. When he heard the door opening, he looked around as the students walked in. His dark eyes were shining maliciously, and his perpetual sneer was playing around the corners of his mouth. When he saw Remus enter the room right after Neville Longbottom, he raised one eyebrow like only Snape could, and he said: "Leave the door open, Lupin. I´d rather not witness this."

He rose to his feet, pushing his robes back with his long fingers, and strode to the door, until he was face to face with Remus. He turned to glare at the class. "Perhaps no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you no to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

He turned again to look at Remus, a demonical smile on his face. Remus raised his eyebrows, looking Snape straight in the eyes.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said coolly, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Snape´s lip curled in a disbelieving sneer, but he left, his robes billowing behind him, shutting the door with a snap.

Remus sighed barely audible. "Now, then." He beckoned the class towards one end of the room. There was nothing but an old, much-used wardrobe in which the teachers kept their spare robes. Remus positioned himself next to it, showing no sign of surprise when the wardrobe shook and wobbled, banging off the wall as if it was possessed.

"Nothing to worry about," Remus said calmly. "There's a Boggart in there."

It looked as if his students didn't seem to agree with him on the "not to worry"part, because quite a few went pale, and Neville looked as if he was wishing he was somewhere else.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces, " Remus began the lesson. He was pleased to see that some students had actually taken a writing block with them, and were taking notes. "Wardrobes," he continued, "the gap beneath beds, the cupboard under sinks – I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock." My own grandfather's grandfather clock actually... "This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice." He smiled at the class.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione Granger's hand shot in the air. Remus nodded at her.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Remus complimented her. Her face lit up with pride.

"So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form," he continued. "He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears." Neville let out a small sputter of utter terror, his face pale.

"This means," Remus said, ignoring Neville, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

The black-haired boy was doing some quick thinking, with Hermione jumping up and down next to him, her hand in the air.

"Er – because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" he tried.

"Precisely," Remus complimented, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake -- tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening." Some of the students smiled amusedly.

"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. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please... Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" chimed the class together.

"Good, very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again when Neville stepped forward, looking as if he was about to die of terror.

"Right, Neville," Remus said to the boy. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville moved his lips, his eyes round and frightened, but he didn't utter a word. Even with his werewolf-ears, Remus couldn't hear a word. "Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," he said cheerfully.

Neville looked around him with a look of terror as if he was a small rabbit being hunted, then said, barely audible: "professor Snape."

The class laughed out loud. Even Neville grinned sheepishly. Remus, on the other hand, was not really amused. He could've guessed, actually. Snape had a habit of picking on the weaker talented, and the short scene with the potion master when they'd entered the staffroom didn't exactly hint at a friendly student-teacher relation either. 

"Professor Snape… hmmm…" he said thoughtfully. "Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?" Of course, Frank Longbottom and his wife were tortured by Voldemort, the boy has to live with a relative of his, his parents can't take care of him.

"Er… yes," answered Neville nervously. "But – I don't want the Boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Remus smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked somewhat puzzled, but said, "Well... always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress... green, normally... and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" asked Remus.

"A big red one," said Neville.

"Right then," said Remus. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," said Neville uncertainly, obviously wondering what Remus' point was.

"When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Remus. "And you will raise your wand – thus – and cry 'Riddikulus' – and  concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

The class roared with laughter at that mental image. The wardrobe reacted with wobbling more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," continued Remus. "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 students went quiet, each thinking of what would scare them the most. Remus observed them, trying to guess what each one feared the most. Harry had closed his eyes, a frown on his face. What would scare you the most, Harry? Remus thought. Not Snape, that's for sure. After all you've been through… There was only one thing Remus could come up with: Voldemort. For one short moment, he imagined Voldemort coming out of that closet, his red eyes glittering devilishly, his wand raised – ready to strike…

How do you make a murdering Voldemort look comical? I mustn't allow Harry to face the Boggart. If Voldemort – it would only cause panic…

Remus suddenly noticed that about everybody was finished and watching him expectantly. "Everyone ready?" he asked. "Neville, we're going to back away," he told the round-faced boy. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I´ll call the next person forward… everyone back, now, so Neville can have a clear shot."

All the students stepped back against the walls, leaving Neville along in front of the wardrobe. His face was pale, but it had a determined look on it. He had pushed up the sleeves of his black robes and was holding his wand ready to strike.

"On the count of three, Neville," Remus said, pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One, two – three – now!"

Alohomora!

A jet of golden sparks shot from the tip of his wand and hit the doorknob. The door of the wardrobe burst open, and out came Snape. Hook-nosed, sallow-skinned and menacing, the potion master advanced at Neville. The poor boy seemed numb with fear, his mouth moving wordlessly. Boggart-Snape was glaring at him, reaching inside his robes for God-knew-what.

"R-r-riddikulus!" stuttered Neville in a squeaky voice.

There was a sound like a whip cracking. Remus suddenly realised that the Marauders would have given everything to witness this. Snape was suddenly dressed in a long, green, lace-trimmed dress. He had a huge hat topped with a moth-eaten stuffed vulture on his head, and there was a huge crimson handbag in his left hand. He looked completely ridiculous.

He stumbled on the hem of the dress, and the class roared with laughter. The Boggart looked confused. Remus took this opportunity to shout: "Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati Patil stepped forward, looking determined. Boggart-Snape turned towards her. another crack sounded, and the Boggart had suddenly changed into a bloodstained mummy. It started to walk towards Parvati, who raised her wand and yelled "Riddikulus!"

Suddenly, one of the mummy's bandages got loose, and the mummy tripped over it. It fell face-first on the floor, its head rolling off.

Seamus Finnigan was next. He practically ran past Parvati. Another crack, and suddenly there was a woman standing where the mummy had been. She had floorlength hair and a greenish face – it was a banshee. She opened her mouth and let out an earpiercing shriek. Seamus shouted "riddikulus!", and suddenly her voice was gone.  

Rats, snakes, eyeballs – "It's confused! We're getting there! Dean!" said Remus, his voice raised in excitement. Dean Tomas hurried forward. The Boggart turned into a severed hand. A "riddikulus" later it was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent!" was Remus' comment. "Ron, you next!"

Harry's red-haired friend stepped forward. The Boggart suddenly took the shape of a giant spider, about six feet tall and covered in black hair. It turned all it's eyes to Ron, clicking his pincers and tapping it's paws on the floor. Ron looked frozen, but he raised his wand and bellowed "riddikulus!" The spider's legs disappeared and the creature fell on the floor, rolling over and over. Lavender Brown jumped out of the way. The animal came to a halt before Harry's feet, and he'd already raised his wand when Remus shouted: "Here!", stepping forward to get the boggart's attention.

Another crack sounded.

The giant leg-less spider had vanished. Everybody was turning their heads to see where the Boggart had gone.

Remus was admiring the silvery orb hanging before his face, the soft glow ethereal. It was hardly the first Boggart he'd fought, he was used to the shape it took by now. He raised his wand, almost sorry to make it disappear. "Riddikulus," he said calmly. 

Crack!

The Boggart turned into a cockroach. One of the best pranks that the Marauders had ever pulled was setting about ten dozens of cockroaches free near the Slytherin common room. They had crept through small holes inside the domains of the hated students. Filch had had a really hard time getting rid of all the bugs ("The cockroaches, not the Slytherins," James and Sirius always said when they were talking about the Cockroach-adventure, as they called it) and Snape had tried to strangle Sirius when he'd found out the cockroaches had crawled inside the cauldron he used for his special potions-project. The little bugs had ruined the work of two months… Remus still had to laugh at the mere memory of it.

The Boggart-cockroach crawled on the floor. "Forward, Neville! Finish him of!"

Another crack. Snape was back, sneering and striding toward Neville. The boy raised his wand determinedly. "Riddikulus!" he shouted. For a split second, Snape was back in his lacy dress. Then Neville burst out in a roar of laughter, and the Boggart exploded in a thousand tiny bits of smoke. The creature was gone.

"Excellent!" said Remus over the applause of his students. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see…" He thought a moment about the grading for this project. "Five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart – " The hourglass filled with red sand immediately filled up, and the golden numbers changed. " – ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," protested Harry.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Remus answered, keeping his voice lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise if for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

An excited chatter rose as the students started flooding out of the staffroom again. Remus could hear them talking about the Boggart – "Did you see me take that banshee?" "And the hand!" "And Snape in that hat!" "And my mummy!" – and he smiled to himself. With one wave of his hand, he closed the wardrobe. After a last glance to see if everything was as it used to be, Remus left the staffroom, closing the door softly behind him, and he made his way back to his classroom.