4
Harry bolted upright in a sea of expletives. He rolled off the couch and landed painfully, narrowly missing the coffee table. He grunted and in his effort to raise himself, he'd grabbed onto the table and dizzily pushed up. The idea should have worked with the coordination of a sober mind, instead, his feet slipped from under him and sent him sprawling onto the ground. He was mildly embarrassed at his disastrous display but he was also in far too much pain to care.
"What are you doing?"
His head pounded, his heart raced, his eyes were killing him, he needed his glasses, and now he was hearing voices.
"I have the fifth years at eight!" His fingers worked the couch in search of his glasses. His hands paused. "Hang on…"
He looked over his shoulder and squinted tightly to catch the hazy image of his best friend.
"Hermione? What're you doing in my room?" His throbbing head reminded him of his urgency and he returned to groping the couch. "Never mind that, I've got to get to class. Where're my damn glasses!"
He felt a light tap on his shoulder. "Here," It was his spectacles. He accepted them gratefully and slipped them on. He balanced upright on wobbly legs and tried to force his feet into his shoes.
He had planned to revise boggarts with the fifth years, but he doubted there was time to prepare for it, if he wasn't late already. Perhaps, he could squeeze in the reductor curse with what little time he had. Merlins beard, he hoped they weren't turning his classroom upside down. Why wouldn't his feet fill his bloody shoes?!
"Harry?" He looked up to find Hermione rubbing the bridge of her nose with an exasperated and yet partially amused expression. "Would you mind not stretching my shoes?"
"What?" He frowned and then looked down. Sure enough, he had been trying to squeeze his foot into a shoe smaller than his foot.
"Sorry," he said and blinked away the ache behind his eyes. Again, he found himself embarrassed and a distinct burning at the edge of his ears. When he reopened his eyes, he took notice of his very strange surroundings. "Hermione? Where am I?"
He looked at his friend and took in her appearance, her hair laid flatly with the slightest hint of her curls, the tips of her hair dripped slowly onto the towel wrapped tightly around her. His eyes widened- surely they hadn't?- of course not! What was he thinking?!
"You're in my apartment. I nearly broke my neck apparating down here when I heard you breaking my stuff." she said. "Also, you expressly stated that you didn't have morning lessons on Mondays."
She looked at the wall clock, Harry followed her gaze. It was half past ten.
He breathed a heavy sigh as his brain finally configured. Never again would he drink any form of alcohol again. Nor come anywhere near any it. He fell onto the couch and suppressed the urge to vomit. His palms found his temple and rubbed.
"Do you think you'll be fine long enough for me to finish my shower?" She asked as she approached her staircase.
"I'm an adult," He groaned. Hermione chortled and apparated.
When she returned, he had already prepared breakfast and was eating a slice of buttered toast with black coffee. It was all he could stomach but he had made sure to prepare her some eggs as well. He had expected her to return dressed and primed for work but instead she dressed in an oversized shirt and pants. She took the seat in front of him and poured herself a cup of coffee.
"Not going in to work?" He asked from above his cup.
She played with the eggs on her plate and elected to drink from her coffee instead. He was mildly offended but bit back a remark. "No, I took the day off. I'm planning to do some research. Are you done with that?" she asked and reached for the newspaper.
He would've said no (purely out of spite for avoiding his handmade eggs) but he hadn't really been reading it, also he wasn't in his own apartment. Besides, his eyes would not let him focus on anything other than the desire to sleep. She flipped the pages to the beginning and furrowed her brows in the way she did when she studied.
Harry watched from behind his cup of coffee as a bud of water flow from her fringe, reached the tip and dangled over her plate, threatening to fall. He reached across the space between them and caught it with the back of his sleeve. Hermione looked up at him blankly, awkwardly even.
"Sorry," He pulled away. "Your hair was- never mind."
She turned her gaze downwards and flipped the paper. She sat upright and narrowed her eyes on an article, her gaze seemed to follow each word by the letter.
"What is it?" Harry asked and drank from his cup.
"'A plague among wizards, three unidentified individuals have been struck by a mysterious curse that has left them in a deep trance. The ministry urges that the public remain calm, lest the spread of misinformation run rampant...'" Her voice trailed off as she continued to read the article.
"Never a dull moment," he muttered and bit into his toast. He brushed a tuft of his curly hair from his eyes.
"You should really consider trimming your hair." She glanced briefly at him and pointed at his hair with her fork. She absently forked some eggs into her mouth.
"I've never been one for aesthetics," he snickered (a little to enthusiastically) and sipped his coffee.
"I know a spell for it, if you want."
"I distinctly remember you asking me to never let you give me a haircut."
She looked up at him, he met her gaze as he loudly sipped from his coffee. Her lips slowly turned upwards to form a smile. He forced himself to swallow before he choked on the laughter that began to form in the back of his throat.
He settled his empty cup on the table and pushed from his seat.
"I should get going," He gestured towards the fireplace. She offered a small smile and nod.
He approached the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder.
"Try not to forget you have friends, Harry. We'd all like to see you around more." Hermione spoke with a small wave. Perhaps it was guilt, or shame or both that prevented him from meeting her gaze. He smiled thinly and disappeared in a burst of green flame.
…
Harry happily tapped the grandfather clock as he settled it at the centre of the classroom. He'd had the third years shift the tables to provide as much space as possible. They circled around him and the clock with curious looks.
He knocked against the wooden frame and the box jerked violently. The students reflectively stepped back.
"I'm sure you're all curious as to what this is?" He spoke and walked around the clock. The time on the clock had been immortalised at three am. "This, is a boggart."
"The clock?" Noah Wilson called out with an obnoxiously quirked brow. He was a pale skinned boy, lanky and boisterous. Harry leaned against the clock with a soft smile playing on his lips.
"Mr Wilson, the boggart is inside the clock." He tapped his wand against the frame and looked around the classroom. "Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?"
Over a dozen eyes simultaneously shot in every direction in effort to avoid eye contact.
"No one?" he looked around the room, "Come on, I'm sure someone has a guess? Ten points to whoever tries."
He waited in awkward silence. A small hand tentatively rose above the crowd.
"Yes, Miss Brown?" He called on the short Hufflepuff. Amah Brown was a dark skinned girl, smart and incredibly reserved. It was the first time she had ever offered to speak in his class, and he was proud. He'd often made notes on her work that she ought to consider sharing her ideas with the class.
"A boggart is an amortal shape-shifter." She mumbled with eyes downcast.
"Excellent," he spoke. "But what makes them so unique?" She looked up at him and he raised his brows to encourage her.
"They can take on the shape of its observers worst fear."
"Ten points to Hufflepuff." He nodded and walked around the clock. "As Miss Brown said, a boggart is a shapeshifter that takes the form of the worst fear of the person seeing it. Today, I'm going to teach you how to defend yourselves against one."
He stood in the centre. "The best way to defend yourselves is through laughter. You see, the charm that repels a boggart is fairly simple and yet requires a force of mind. You must compel it to assume a shape you find amusing."
The students watched him intently, "Sure, you can wave your wand and recite the incantation, but that won't have much of an effect on a boggart. You need to augment it into a creature of fun. This means you'll have to concentrate very hard."
"The incantation we'll be using is 'Riddikulus'."
They spent a moment reciting the incantation before Harry ordered them into a line.
"No shoving," he instructed over his shoulder as he heard yelps and cries. "You'll all get a chance."
Olivia Taylor, a tanned and heavily freckled Slytherin had been the unfortunate student sacrificed to be the first to test the waters. She tried to push her way to the back but had been shoved forward.
"Ready, Miss Taylor?" He grinned with his hand ready to unlock the latch.
"No," She shook her head urgently. His smile faltered.
He looked at the clock and then at her. He knew all too well that the idea of ones worst fear being brought out would be enough to shake them to their core. What each student needed for the exercise would be reassurance and confidence. Confidence in their own capabilities, and also reassurance that he would rise to their aid without hesitation. Both of which he could only offer so much as a professor.
He walked towards her and bent to her level, he placed either hand over her shoulder and looked at the clock.
"Boggarts are significantly weakened in the presence of multiple people." He tried to reassure her. "I'll be here with you, Miss Taylor. I swear, nothing will happen. Just remember to concentrate."
She took a deep breathe and nodded. She extended her wand. Harry searched for her eyes and she offered a tight-lipped nod. He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze and then walked towards the clock.
He lifted the latch.
It took a minute of dead silence before a flood of insects erupted from the clock. They buzzed menacingly. Students screeched and stepped backwards. Harry looked at Olivia, her face became sickly pale and jaw slacked. Her wand shook as she swarm spun in front of her.
"Remember the incantation and think of something amusing," Harry spoke calmly.
"Ridd-" she began shakily. Her hand trembled terribly.
She shut her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. "Riddikulus!"
The room echoed with the sound of a hundred whoopee cushions falling to the ground. The class burst into laughter and students seemed to relax.
Harry applauded Olivia, who seemed far more relaxed and proud of herself. She high-fived a fellow student as she walked to the back of the line.
"Whose next?" Harry rubbed his hands.
Harry watched proudly as student after student faced their fears. Some needed an extra push but most accomplished the first time around. Those who needed a second try went to the back to practice before joining the line again.
Marcus Fantis approached the front. He stumbled over his too long robe and looked at Harry with weary blue eyes. The bags under the boys eyes had their own shadows. He looked as though he would be sick.
"Are you alright?" Harry queried?
"Yea- Yeah." He swallowed deeply and extended his wand. The boggart which had (courtesy of the previous student) formed into a frog covered in clown make-up began to shift uncertainly. It balled itself in a fog above them and took on a multitude of forms before settling on one.
Marcus himself.
The class became quiet. Harry looked at the boggart and then the boy who stood trembling at the sight of himself. His wand bearing hand shook violently. He was wide-eyed and gasping for air. His free hand clasped at his chest.
Harry learnt early that part of being a teacher is being able to push a student to reach their full capabilities, but also knowing when a lesson has come to an end.
Harry quickly approached the boy before he could tip over and caught him. He was breathing deeply. The boy was much lighter than he expected.
Harry glanced at the boggart, and before it could shift again, he sent it into the clock.
"Alright, that's enough for one class." he spoke stiffly and heard groans of disapproval. Marcus leant against him, Harry did his best to shield the boy. "Anyone who didn't get a chance, will continue next time."
He heard the students begin to grab their books and bags and shuffle out. Some moaning about how Marcus ruined the fun. The rest didn't seem to care. He waited until it was just them.
He held on to Marcus until the boy could stand on his own and his breathing calmed.
"Are you alright?" Harry brought himself to the boys level with concern in his eyes.
Marcus nodded stiffly. "I'm sorry-"
"Never mind that. Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey?" he suggested. The boy vehemently shook his head.
"I'll be fine, I was just a little overwhelmed." he spoke and looked everywhere but at him.
"Alright," Harry nodded stiffly. "Listen, you won't have to participate next time, if you don't want to, alright Marcus?"
"Yes Professor," he spoke. Harry stepped away from him and allowed him to collect his belongings. Marcus bolted towards the door.
"Marcus?" Harry stopped the boy midway. He turned around with slumped shoulders.
"Is there something you wish to tell me?" Harry asked with concern.
He pitied the boy. After all, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to have ones greatest fear be themselves.
Marcus seemed to ponder the question and then shrugged. "No sir. Nothing."
The boy bolted out of the classroom, to join the rest of his group. Harry waved his wand to reorganise the class as his next group began to file in.
He couldn't push away the look that the boggart, in the form of Marcus, had given him.
…
Harry had been in the Great Hall, gleefully monitoring the extra-curricular students as they worked, when he received a letter that shook him to the core.
He charged into St Mungos wide-eyed and frantic. He hardly cared the amount of doors or people he pushed past as he marched his way to room 403.
He'd expected an audience, crying, something other than the deafening silence in the room.
Ron raised his ginger head weakly. Harry tore his gaze from the sight to meet his eyes. Ron looked exhausted, his eyes were bloodshot and sunken. His hand reflexively gripped tightly onto the hand he held.
"Ginny…"
Hope you're all enjoying this ride. I'll try to have the next chapter out sooner, till then, take care!