YEAR 5

Andrew fancied himself a fairly competent duellist. In his first year alone he had beaten both Chester Davies, his Prefect, and Merula Snyde, at the time a terrible bully. In his second, he'd defeated the Ice Knight guarding one of the Cursed Vaults. Throughout his stay at Hogwarts, he had faced many fearsome opponents, even an Acromantula, and so, he thought privately, a bit of a reputation was not undeserved. Not that he would ever brag, of course, but being good felt good.

It was with such thoughts that Andrew entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom that afternoon, wherein his eyes were immediately drawn to a large chest sitting right in front of Professor Rakepick's desk, a rattling sound coming from within. The day's lesson promised to be interesting, yet he could not help but have a bad feeling...

"Two years ago," Professor Rakepick began as soon as they were all seated, "Hogwarts was nearly overcome by Boggarts spawned from a Cursed Vault. Thankfully, Mr. Ribeiro and his friends broke the curse on the so called Vault of Fear, ending the infestation."

Andrew smiled proudly at the praise and recognition. It wasn't often that he got it, not for that.

"While the majority of the Boggarts have been banished," the Defence Professor continued, "some were kept for future lessons in this very class.".

His smile faded as he felt the sharp pain of realisation run down his spine.

"Everyone needs to know how to defend themselves should they ever encounter one in the future. Fortunately, Mr. Ribeiro is an expert on the subject, and can demonstrate the most effective method..."

"You want me to face another Boggart?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

"Unless you're too afraid..." she challenged, eyes narrow, smile wide.

"N-No, of course not," he stuttered after a moment. Badeea, who was sitting next to him, eyed him with an indecipherable expression, but said nothing. Andrew took it as reassurance, and got up from his desk.

Those who frequently face danger say it's one thing to learn about dangerous beasts in class, but another, very different thing to face them in the real world. Though this was supposed to mean that you could never prepare for real danger, Andrew had found that real danger often came with the means by which it might be defeated. It was something none of his friends could understand, save perhaps for Bill. Back when he had faced all those Boggarts in the Cursed Vault, he'd had his friends beside him, a cause worth fighting for, and the promise of answers just beyond his reach. When the chips were down, yes, he could banish as many Boggarts as he had to, because it was the only way to save his friends, to save Hogwarts, to find out what happened to his brother; but here, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, he had nothing.

The truth is, he was very much scared... because his Boggart, his worst, most profound fear, was Lord Voldemort.

Andrew had fought him last time. The final Boggart was stronger than the others, and would not fall to the banishing spell until subdued. Not only he had no doubt that Professor Rakepick had procured the strongest Boggart she could find, and thus he would have to duel him again, he was also sure that his fear of the Dark Lord was stronger than ever before, because the answers he had found that night were that his brother may very well be working with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"When you open this cabinet," Professor Rakepick said, gesturing towards the thing Andrew had previously thought was a chest, "a Boggart will emerge, and you will demonstrate the proper banishing technique."

Professor Rakepick took a single step forward. "Please cast the Unlocking Charm," she ordered.

Andrew tried to control his breath. He drew his wand from his robes and, with a flourish, pointed it towards the cabinet. "Alohomora!"

He rose from the cabinet like a spectre, green robes twisting around his pale skin, a black cloak billowing behind him like the wings of a monstrous bat. His eyes were bloodshot, his nostrils flared, but there was no anger on his face, only a contemptuous sneer.

Andrew heard screams coming from behind him, but didn't dare turn around, risking only the briefest glance. There wasn't enough time to check on all his friends. Charlie was laying on the ground, his legs still halfway in his chair, and Talbott was gripping his table, looking haunted.

Distantly, he heard Rakepick. "Have no fear, class," she said. "Mr. Ribeiro has everything under control."

Andrew, who very much did not have anything under control, simply nodded. Tears threatened to burst from his eyes, but he blinked them away. In his mind, he was facing Death himself.

Lord Voldemort carried himself strangely. His left hand was held limp above his chest, while his right held a wand between his fingers, casually, carelessly even, yet pointed straight at his opponent. These affectations had made many underestimate the Dark Lord during his rise to power, or so the books had said. Andrew, for his part, could not see how anyone could possibly underestimate the man... the monster... standing before him.

"Incarcerous!" he cast before his courage could fail him, but the ropes that surged from the tip of his wand were easily deflected with a wave of the Dark Lord's hand.

With a motion so swift it tricked the eyes, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named raised his wand, and mouthed an incantation that, although unheard, any wizard would recognise.

Andrew ducked under a nearby desk as a sickly green light blazed past him. The Boggarts in the Vault could not cast the Unforgivable Curse, but what if this was different, was if this was real? Andrew did not want to find out.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, and with a swish and flick the desk was lifted off the ground, floating above him for only moments before he performed an arching motion with his wand and placed it between him and Voldemort. Seconds later, the top half burst into pieces, hit by the same green light from before.

"Depulso!" cried Andrew. The half-destroyed desk was immediately flung toward Voldemort, shattering into a thousand pieces as it hit his hastily raised protection.

Now.

"Flipendo!"

Caught by surprise, the Dark Lord was hurled into the support beam behind him with such force that several objects were knocked from the nearby shelves. Andrew quickly closed the distance between them, and before the Boggart could react he said: "Riddikulus."

There was a noise like a whip crack; instantly, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named turned into a clown.

"Remember," Professor Rakepick said after several seconds of stunned silence, "that what truly banishes a Boggart is not the spell, but the laughter it facilitates."

Andrew was exhausted, but it was a little bit funny to see You-Know-Who dancing on a table and then offering flowers to Merula, who in turn rolled her eyes in disgust; he let out a weak chuckle, and soon the whole class was laughing.

"Well done," said Professor Rakepick after casting Colloportus on the cabinet, into which the Boggart had retreated. "I did not expect the... theatrics, but we each deal with our fears in different ways. Class dismissed."

Andrew walked out of the classroom in a daze. Penny offered him a potion, probably Wiggenweld, while Rowan simply put a hand to his shoulder. Badeea, trailing slightly behind the group, seemed to be furiously scribbling on her notepad.

"What are you painting?" Andrew asked, a safe guess when it came to her. In response, she pointed her wand to the page, murmured something he couldn't quite make out, then gently severed it.

"For you," she said simply.

Andrew took the page from her hands and found it contained a pencil drawing of him hiding behind the raised table. Though simple, the drawing moved, and he could clearly see his own fear when the Dark Lord's spell hit the table, as well as his determination when he decided what to do next. For some reason, that made him feel better than any praise could.