Chapter 45: Boggarts and Books

Crap, okay, so it's definitely not nothing.

"a boggart does what?" he (definitely didn't) yelp, staring wide-eyed at the slightly shaking luggage set at the middle of the classroom. Center stage, so to speak: right where everyone could easily see everything.

Oh, geeze—that thought definitely did not help.

Laura didn't look too happy about the setup either. "Well, like the professor said: it takes the form of whatever you're most scared of."

Sans wanted to curse, but he managed to hold his non-existent tongue. Not that it really mattered, since Sirius managed to swear enough for both of them—huffing a series of canine snuffles that should never be translated while in polite company.

At least nobody else could tell what he had said. Though, given the amused glance she shot him, Laura could at least guess the dog wasn't pleased.

"Professor Moody," spoke up that Ravenclaw who had, in the last class, complained about having to learn too-advanced spells. "I really don't think this material is suitable for first years."

Sans nodded in wholehearted agreement (if perhaps for his own reasons), and took back any snide internal comments he'd made about the snootiness of his fellow housemate.

Fake-Eye Moody, naturally, remained unswayed. "It's a dangerous world beyond these castle walls," he said, rough voice strict. "You'd best learn that quickly."

For a long moment, his eerie gaze swept over the class. Or at least, half of it did—the blue artificial eye remained trained in one direction.

Sans schooled his expression, putting on a relaxed grin to cover his briefly alarmed slip up. He was not panicked; he was admittedly a little interested in what might happen, and certainly worried, but most of all he was just really against displaying whatever his greatest fear might be to a class of eleven-year-olds. And Fake-Eye, of course.

Well then, he would just have to sneak out before it got to that point.

Unfortunately, the imposter's stupid blue eyeball wouldn't stop looking at him. He needed a distraction of some kind, ideally something that could be blamed on the boggart, and take that chance to slip out.

The imposter-professor refocused (one eye only, of course) on the protesting Ravenclaw.

"You learned Riddikulus last class," he said. "What I didn't tell you, was that this spell is for more than just laughter—if you want that in a duel, best stick to the Tickling Charm. Less effort." He turned to the luggage, a flick of his wand setting it upright on its end. "No, the Riddikulus spell is for banishing boggarts."

Under his breath, Sans muttered, "i guess that makes sense."

Laura frowned at him, then hesitantly raised her hand.

"Question, Madley?"

Sparing a moment for a quick glance to Sans, she nodded. "Uhm, how does a spell that makes you laugh get rid of a boggart?"

"Skelton." Apparently, rather than answer, the professor had followed her look. "Do you have an idea of why that's the case?"

"it's how it makes you laugh," Sans answered, before he could process that it might be better to just claim ignorance. "picture something funny, and it puts it in whoever—or whatever—is hit."

"Correct." With a pointed look and a nod, Fake-Eye limped his way around to stand to the left side of the luggage. "The trick is picturing what you fear as something humorous. Let's begin."

Then the imposter-professor began calling students to the front one by one, having them face the boggart with the whole class watching. Considering how public speaking is generally accepted to be at the top of the greatest-fear leaderboards, Sans thought the setup was kind of ironic. Not to mention dumb.

But that was probably just his own anxiety talking.

A Hufflepuff boy was called down—the same one who had nearly fallen off during the flying lesson earlier—and when the boggart was released, it took the form of a twisted broomstick. It creaked and groaned, wood shedding splinters.

"Riddikulus!" he called, voice only a little shaky.

With a jerk and a loud whip-crack noise, the broom sprouted two thin wooden arms with spindly hands. A bucket of sudsy water popped into existence, branch-like fingers grabbing its handle, and the once-flying broom flipped bristles-down.

It was enough of a change that the boy—along with several other students—laughed in the 'face' of the shape-changer. It swooshed back into the trunk.

"Madley," the professor called, "you're up next."

Laura took a deep breath, bracing herself, and stepped forward.

The lid of the luggage swung open, and tall orange flames leapt to the ceiling.

Crackling and spitting sparks, the false fire brought with it a wave of heat as it surged toward her. Laura took a few hurried steps back, instinctively wanting to get some distance, but still managed to keep her wand held steady.

"Riddikulus," she said, tone a bit quiet but not shaking.

The fire almost seemed to burn brighter as the spell didn't catch.

"Rid…" She swallowed dryly, looking confused and alarmed. "Riddikulus."

The fire flared, and she took another step back. Her wand hand shook as she tried the banishing spell again. Once more, to no effect.

Sans stood up.

The not-snooty-anymore student raised a hand, unnecessarily. "Professor—"

Fake-Eye shook his head, and while most probably saw trust in his grim frown—as a surety that his student could handle it—Sans recognized the darker glint in his mismatched eyes. He was enjoying this. More than that, the fake professor was probably actively undermining her; Sans had seen his wand twitch, purposefully, just after she had finished casting.

Sans slipped past the desks and chairs, ignoring Sirius's surprised bark, and hurried for the front of the room.

Oh, this is a bad idea.

After all, he still had a chance to just duck out. He could even use this blaze to cover his escape, to disguise a touch of blue magic to trip-up the fake professor or something. Without his interference, Laura could probably handle the boggart just fine.

Probably.

Stars save him from this new-found actively-saving-people thing. He blamed his brother's long delayed influence.

Sans stepped between her and the illusory flames.

There was a moment of what seemed almost to be indecision on the boggart's part, as it shifted rapidly between a number of things almost too quickly to see. For a moment it was a swirl of dust and a scrap of red, then the red became a slash, followed by a twist of black touched with orange, pulling back together into one word.

But in the end, it shivered into glass: a massive window. It loomed tall in the classroom, tip reaching all the way to the ceiling, and it was as broad as his armspan twice over.

The landscape on the other side of the pane was snowy and peaceful, panning past tall evergreens trimmed in white, following along the edges of a narrow path. A sentry post slid into view from the right of the window, and just as swiftly slid back out the left. Soon enough, the image had changed entirely to that of a quaint—yet empty—town.

Empty.

Sans knew the sight well enough to recognize that a lot of the shimmering silver on the ground was not snow.

Shocked and unable to help himself, he took a step back.

"it's not true," he whispered to himself. "frisk wouldn't have—"

Would they?

And therein lay the terrible trick, because Sans couldn't be sure; his sacrifice had been a gamble, if a calculated one, and he had no clues as to what might have happened after. It's possible that the kid had just… kept killing.

He knew, of course, that the boggart was just imitating his greatest fear. The images weren't actually real. But that didn't matter, because he wasn't scared of that reality—he'd lived that reality, more times than he could count.

No, he was scared of the possibility.

Because there's the possibility that his last-ditch effort to save the Underground had instead doomed it, with nobody standing as a deterrent to the end of everything.

The image changed, becoming a massive hall. Light streamed though tall lancet windows, glinting gold off the tiled floor and casting rows of columns in stark relief. It was a beautiful scene—as it always had been—but now it stood empty.

There would be no judgement within its walls anymore.

No justice for Snowdin, or Waterfall, or Hotland. However temporary it might have been, between death and being reset.

Nobody to stand in its way—in their way.

And, stars—Sans knew he hadn't made that much of a difference. Not really. He may have fought with every trick he had, lasted longer, made his death cost over hundreds of theirs… but he'd still died, in the end.

But some of those times, he'd won.

Some of those times, they'd turned back.

If Frisk chose genocide now, even without the ability to reset… if they made it all the way to that golden hallway, and he wasn't there…

Chara may be gone, but Frisk had always been able to choose for themselves.

They could still choose to erase everything.

Now, it would be permanent.

"Sans?"

Laura, standing behind him, looking between him and the massive window. Her wand was still drawn, and she looked just about ready to forcibly swap places with him. Like he had done for her, making it all into some kind of boggart-based leap-frog.

The thought had him raising his own wand. "riddikulus."

He hadn't properly come up with a way to make a giant window humorous, though, so while the spell did take hold and shook the boggart from its form, it didn't give it any new shape to change into. As such, with a crack and a swirl of formless shades, the window shrank and settled into what was presumably another one of his fears.

A mirror.

It wasn't funny, but he wasn't exactly scared of it either. He didn't immediately recast his spell, and just frowned slightly at his reflection.

His reflection smiled back at him, all teeth and bone.

Oh.

Right.

It was a mirror, but his boggart-reflection didn't have the glamour. Instead it showed him as he was, a skeleton in a school uniform, and most certainty not a human child. Which, again, not exactly scary or anything, so he wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean.

Before his reflection could have a chance to do or say anything—if it even would or could—Sans raised his wand again.

"riddikulus."

This time, he was sure to have a suitably funny idea in mind. The boggart bent into a large carnival mirror, reflecting the entire class with goofily incorrect proportions: tall and short and fat and thin, and every combination in between.

He snorted, amused, and any student behind him with a clear view of their reflection busted out laughing. The boggart beat a hasty retreat.

Fake-Eye set a hand on the now-closed luggage, both eyes pinned on Sans. With a reluctance in his tone that likely went unnoticed by the rest of the class, he complemented, "Quick thinking, Skelton."

"thanks, i try."

The imposter-professor then yelled something about vigilance to the whole class, which jerked the students back to paying full attention, and Sans turned to head back to his seat. Sirius, waiting under the desk, gave him a worried look that he shrugged off.

Laura quietly pointed out, "That's twice now."

"hm?"

"You've helped me out twice," she clarified, taking her seat beside him. "So, thanks. Though I do appreciate not being drenched this time." She glanced to the luggage as it opened for the next student, then back to him. "Are you—?"

"oh, i'm fine," he half-lied, and subtly dodged a paw that tried for a pointed smack. "you?"

"I… I'll be okay. Just really don't want to try that again."

Sans agreed with her on that one; he didn't care how much attention he'd get by ditching the rest of class, he was not dealing with that boggart again. And since it's an easy bet that Fake-Eye Moody would start repeating students soon, he's leaving.

No more waiting for a conveniently shaped boggart he could twist into a justifiable distraction, he'd just have to make do with an unexplainable one. And for that, a touch of blue magic would be more than enough.

"that's for sure," he said. "first chance i get, i'm out."

Then, with a flick, Sans made his own chance by forcibly spinning the enchanted eyeball to look away from them.

As amusing as it would be to stay and watch the imposter stagger after the unwanted shift in perspective—and from the gleeful wagging by his feet, Sirius certainly enjoyed it—Sans just wanted to leave. He quickly slipped out the door.

It was for times like this that he sat near the exit whenever possible.

Laura, the little rebel, followed him out. She gave him a worried look as they walked down the hall, but said nothing more about the class, the boggart, or even their current truancy.

"Have you already started on the Potions essay?" she asked instead. "I'm absolutely stuck trying to find books on pewter cauldrons."

=X=X=X=

Sans actually hadn't spent much time at the school library—or any library, really—and his prior experience didn't quite stand up to the truly impressive collection of books here. He'd only visited long enough to add one little detail by the door, and hadn't even gone in at the time.

On this visit, since they weren't exactly supposed to be out of class, the two of them had to sneak in. It wasn't too hard, luckily; all Sans had to do was knock over a convenient stack of books before they even got to the door, and the librarian was too busy tidying up to pay attention to them. A few students glanced their way, but either didn't register that they were skipping class or (more likely) simply didn't care.

They managed to find and claim a secluded table—with enough space for two students and a dog, which was a big bonus—back near the potions section. Or at least near the section with the most potions books, since there were still a few odd ones mixed in on the shelf: but that's just wizard organization, he supposed.

What he guessed to be one of the more boring out-of-place options was titled An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms, which couldn't sound any less interesting to him if it tried. In contrast, Charm Your Own Cheese looked particularly compelling.

"i wonder if they have an anti-freezing charm in there."

"What did you say?"

He waved the thought away, returning to their table after grabbing a thick book that looked promising only in the context of the essay they were working on.

After maybe fifteen minutes of skimming through the driest text imaginable, Sans leaned back in his chair.

"it's like a watermelon," he mused. On the table in front of him, a few pages of the open book flopped backwards: falling from the thicker left side to the right. "the more you peel…"

"The more you—" Laura echoed, for a moment sounding as if she was going to finish with another half to the phrase. Then, naturally, she realized that the sentence made no sense and just shook her head in confusion. "Sans, do you know what a watermelon is?"

He shrugged, watching as another page of the thick book flipped itself. "don't think i've ever even seen one, no."

She didn't say anything for a moment, staring at her oddball friend. "You don't… you don't peel a watermelon, Sans."

"but it's an a-peeling offer, right?"

"Actually, out of literally any fruit you could have chosen, a watermelon is probably one of the single-most un-peel-able." Laura couldn't help but sound kind of impressed. "Like, at all."

"oh well. ya win some, ya lose some."

Sirius gave him a look from under the table, clearly asking what the heck this 'some' being won or lost even was. Naturally, Sans didn't give him an answer.

Laura just shook her head at that point, turning back to her own book. Then she huffed, and pushed it aside. "Maybe I should just ask Cedric for help. Or…" she drifted off, thoughtful. "Hey, you know Hermione Granger, right?"

"Who knows— Oh." Hermione had just rounded the corner, a significant stack of books levitating in the air over her shoulder. "Hello, Sans."

"man. you've got great timing."

She blinked. "Thanks, I suppose. I haven't seen you in the library before."

"you mean 'librarby'," he said, grinning to himself.

"No, it's… You know what, never mind." She dropped the matter, deciding he was probably just being contrary for the sake of it. A smart guess, on her part. "Anyway, do you need help with anything?"

"you got any recommendations for stuff on pewter cauldrons?"

She did. She really, really did.

It was a bit ridiculous just how many books she pulled down for them, most of them with just a single passage or two that was actually useful.

"Wait, shouldn't you two be in class?" Hermione realized, after having set them up with enough material to last literal hours. "I don't think first years have free periods."

At least Laura had the studious decency to look a tad chagrined at that. "We, uhm, left partway through Defense."

Hermione almost started in on a lecture, but seemed to think better of it at the last second. Probably because Sirius cut her off preemptively by setting a paw up on her chair.

After giving the dog-that-wasn't a long look, she instead asked, "Why?"

"boggart."

"Oh."

It was answer enough, really.

"anyway," Sans said, changing the subject. "are you and the gang free saturday? i have some questions about some things and may need to cauldron you for more help."

Laura snorted.

From under the table, Sirius looked suddenly much more interested—he could guess just what questions Sans was talking about. After all, before they could nail down a plan of action, Harry and his friends deserved to have a chance to chip in.

Hermione blinked. "What… 'cauldron'?"

"like, cauld-ron. call on." He could see the pun wasn't clicking. Shame. "whatever. got time?"

"I'll ask them next class." She glanced down at Sirius, who was giving her as serious a look as a golden retriever could in an attempt to silently impart the importance of meeting up.

But, seeing as he was a dog at the moment, the effectiveness was debatable.

Laura had been watching the goings on with a curious expression, incomplete potions essay set aside. "What sort of help, anyway?"

"oh, nothing major." he shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "just advice on organizing things for the semester."

At her still-puzzled look, Sans just grinned.

Author's Note:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.

I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving! Or, if you don't celebrate it, I hope you ate well this past week! It's essentially the same thing.

Yo, so using the Riddikulus spell last chapter was definitely purposeful. I felt that, since they're first years, they'd need to have some practice with casting before facing the real deal. But casting with nothing happening felt boring, so I went ahead and came up with a sort of side effect for it. Sorry if that was confusing.
As for the boggart itself… man. That was a tricky one. There were so many options, and I only really started feeling confident in the one I chose after writing most of the scene.
I hope you think it's an interesting take, even if you might not agree.

As a conversation starter, what do you think the boggart would become for some other folk in the Underground?

And speaking of conversation…
The Discord! Which, by the way, I totally wrote as 'Dircerd' just then. That would've been embarrassing, good thing I caught that. And then went and told you about it anyway. I'm still not fully sure how some things work, and still working on some bits, but I suppose I've delayed enough by this point. If you're interested, stop on by!

Here's the Discord invite code: m3CFXnC
(I trust you know better than I how to use it. Tell me if something's wrong with it.)
Why must this site hate links so much? Holy crap, it's been eating everything I try.

Updates on the first of the month.
In the spirit of the holiday that just flew by this past week, I wanna thank everyone who has read this far! Of course, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows—but just the fact that you've stuck around this far really means a lot to me.

See ya on the flipside, everyone!