34. The Boggart in the Wardrobe
Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm heavily bandaged and slung across his chest, acting as though he were the valiant survivor of some great battle.
"How is it, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson simpered, eyeing his arm with a pitying look. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," Malfoy said, forcing a brave grimace. But as Pansy looked away, he shot a wink at Crabbe and Goyle, making sure no one else saw it.
"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said lazily, his voice cold and indifferent.
Harry and Ron exchanged scowls, and Hope let out an annoyed huff, earning a sharp nudge from Hermione. Snape wouldn't have been so lenient if they had walked in late. He would've given them detention without hesitation. But Malfoy? Snape always found a way to let him get away with anything. As Head of Slytherin house, he clearly favored his own students above all else.
Today, they were brewing a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so they were forced to prepare their ingredients on the same table.
"Sir," Malfoy called, raising his good arm dramatically. "Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots because of my arm—"
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said without even looking up.
Ron's face flushed a deep shade of red.
"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy, his voice low with irritation. Malfoy just smirked across the table.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape. Cut up these roots."
Ron grabbed the knife, shoving Malfoy's roots toward him, and began chopping them in frustration, making sure they were all different sizes.
"Professor," Malfoy drawled, his voice dripping with false sweetness, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
Snape stalked over to their table, his sharp eyes narrowing at the disarrayed roots before he turned to Ron with a disgusted look.
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley," Snape instructed.
"But, sir—!" Ron protested, his hands still gripping his knife. He had spent the last fifteen minutes carefully chopping his own roots into neat, uniform pieces.
"Now," Snape snapped in his most dangerous tone.
Reluctantly, Ron shoved his meticulously chopped roots across the table to Malfoy, before returning to the task with a grimace.
"And, sir," Malfoy continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'll need this Shrivelfig skinned."
"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's Shrivelfig," Snape said, his usual venom directed at Harry, as he shot Harry one of his signature glares.
Harry grabbed the Shrivelfig and began skinning it quickly, his hand shaking in anger. Without a word, he flung the skinned fruit back across the table at Malfoy, who was smirking more widely than ever.
"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" Malfoy asked quietly, his tone dripping with malice.
"None of your business," Ron muttered, refusing to look up from his work.
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Malfoy continued, his voice laced with mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"
"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," Ron snarled.
"—he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this—" He sighed dramatically, putting on a show of suffering. "Who knows if my arm will ever be the same again?"
"So that's why you're putting it on," Harry said, the words slipping out before he could stop himself. His hand shook again, and he accidentally decapitated a dead caterpillar. "To try and get Hagrid sacked."
"Well," Malfoy said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."
A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble, as usual. Potions had never been his strong suit, and his fear of Snape made things worse. His potion, which should have been a bright, acid green, had turned—
"Orange, Longbottom," Snape said coldly, ladling some of Neville's potion into the air so everyone could see the disaster. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say quite clearly that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"
Neville turned pink, his eyes wide, and he looked like he might start crying.
"Please, sir," Hermione said, speaking up before Neville could crumble completely. "I could help Neville fix it."
"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape sneered, silencing Hermione with a sharp look. She flushed pink and sank back in her seat.
"Maybe if he actually did his job, Neville wouldn't be struggling so much," Hope muttered under her breath, her frustration bubbling over. She wasn't thinking about the consequences of speaking out—until she noticed Snape's cold eyes flick in her direction.
His gaze sharpened immediately, and the room seemed to grow colder. Snape stood still, studying her for a moment before a dark smile curved across his lips.
"Would you like to share that with the class, Miss Lupin?" he asked, his voice low, almost too calm. The question sent a chill through Hope's spine.
Hope sat up straighter, meeting his gaze defiantly. Hermione nudged her under the table, but Hope didn't look away. She had already spoken her mind.
"Maybe if you actually did your job, Neville wouldn't be struggling so much," Hope repeated, her voice clear as she looked him straight in the eye, "sir."
The room went silent. Every student was holding their breath, watching the standoff. Snape's nostrils flared, and his lips twisted into a sneer. The tension in the room thickened.
"Some students are simply lost causes," he said in a silky voice, his tone dripping with disdain. "Much like yourself, Miss Lupin. You should know by now that being a loudmouth is hardly a skill—though I suppose that hasn't stopped you from trying."
Hope's fists clenched beneath the table, her nails digging into her palms. She was seething, but she didn't let it show on the outside. She had made her point.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said dismissively. "And detention. Maybe that will teach you to keep your skills to yourself." He turned to Neville with a smirk. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson, we'll feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."
Hope stayed silent this time, slumping into her seat. Arguing further wouldn't help Neville at all.
The rest of the lesson dragged on as usual, with Snape glaring at Hope even more than he usually did. Harry and Ron had been in a tense conversation with Malfoy, who had mentioned something cryptic about getting revenge on Sirius. Clearly, it was another one of Malfoy's attempts to stir things up. Hermione, meanwhile, spent the entire lesson whispering instructions to Neville whenever Snape wasn't watching.
Soon, Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now. This potion needs to stew before it can be drunk. Clear away while it simmers, and then we'll test Longbottom's..."
Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione continued to whisper instructions to him, her voice full of urgency.
Hope moved to pack away her unused ingredients and went to wash her hands in the stone basin in the corner, where Ron and Harry were standing.
"What did Malfoy mean?" Hope overheard Harry mutter to Ron as he stood under the icy stream of water from a gargoyle's mouth.
"Are you talking about that thing Malfoy said? Revenge on Black?" Hope asked, frowning.
Harry nodded. "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me—yet."
"He's just making it up," Ron said harshly. "Trying to get you to do something stupid."
Hope nodded in agreement. "You can't trust anything he says."
The end of the lesson was nearing. Snape moved to Neville's side, standing like a dark shadow over the boy's trembling form.
"Everyone gather round," Snape called, his black eyes glittering with amusement. "And watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he's managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he's done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."
The Gryffindors watched nervously. The Slytherins looked almost gleeful. Snape picked up Trevor, the toad, and dipped a spoon into Neville's potion, trickling a few drops down the toad's throat.
There was a pause. Then, with a small pop, Trevor the toad turned into a wriggling tadpole in Snape's hand.
The Gryffindors burst into applause, but Snape's face darkened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. A few drops from the bottle, and Trevor reappeared, fully grown.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said, his voice cold and dismissive, erasing any traces of victory from their faces. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."
Hope, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way up the steps toward the Entrance Hall. Harry was still deep in thought about what Malfoy had said, while Ron and Hope were seething about Snape's unfairness.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor," Ron groaned. He turned to Hope. "You've got to stop mouthing off to him."
"I will when he stops being a git," Hope retorted, crossing her arms stubbornly.
"That's never gonna happen," Ron whined.
"Well, I guess I won't stop mouthing off, will I?" Hope replied, "Besides, I'm sure he would've found some other reason to take off those ten points. The only person he hates more than me is Harry... and maybe Neville," she added with a thoughtful tilt of her head.
Ron scowled, still fuming. "And five points just because the potion was alright! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!" he complained, shaking his head in frustration.
Hermione didn't respond, and Ron glanced around, noticing her absence. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Harry turned, scanning the top of the stairs where the rest of the class was heading to the Great Hall. Hope furrowed her brows in confusion. Hermione had just been right behind them.
"She was right behind us," Ron muttered, frowning deeply.
Malfoy passed by with Crabbe and Goyle, his usual smirk in place as he threw a glance at Harry before walking off.
"There she is," Harry said, pointing. Hermione was hurrying up the stairs, her face slightly flushed, her bag clutched in one hand while the other appeared to be tucking something into the front of her robes.
"How did you do that?" Ron asked, clearly puzzled.
"What?" Hermione replied, joining them at the top of the stairs, her breath a little ragged.
"You were right behind us, and next minute, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again," Ron said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
Hermione blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "What? Oh, I had to go back for something." She paused, looking down at her bag, which seemed to have split at the seam. "Oh no..." she murmured, her expression shifting into concern.
Hope's eyes narrowed as she saw the damage. She could only imagine how overloaded Hermione's bag was, packed with all the thick textbooks she carried around every day.
"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow as he flipped through the books Hermione had handed him.
"You know how many subjects I'm taking," Hermione said, catching her breath. "Couldn't you hold these for me?"
Ron glanced at the titles, looking incredulous. "But you don't even have any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."
"Oh, yes," Hermione replied absently, stuffing the books back into her bag as though it wasn't a big deal. "I hope there's something good for lunch. I'm starving," she added quickly, changing the topic as she started walking toward the Great Hall.
Ron gave Hope a sideways glance. "D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?"
Hope nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on Hermione as she marched ahead.
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Hope left lunch early, eager to visit her dad before her first class. She pushed open the door to his classroom, and he looked up from behind his desk, a warm smile spreading across his face.
"Hello, love," he greeted, his voice calm and affectionate.
"Hey, Dad," Hope smiled, walking over to sit on top of one of the desks, swinging her legs slightly.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes soft with curiosity. "How's your first week going?"
Hope shrugged, looking thoughtful. "It's been good. I really like Divination. Turns out, I'm actually good at it."
Her dad raised an eyebrow, his expression both surprised and amused. "Really? I could never make sense of Divination. It was never something I could properly study."
Hope nodded, "I guess it just clicks for me."
"How was Potions? I know you had it earlier," he asked.
Hope groaned, leaning back onto the desk. "It was awful. Snape's such a git." She said frustratedly.
"Hope," he warned, his tone light but serious.
She rolled her eyes, sitting up again, exasperated. "He is, Dad."
"You can't call your professors that," he replied.
"I know, I know, but he's horrible. He took ten points from me today for no reason." She sighed dramatically.
Lupin gave her a knowing look, his brow furrowing as he studied her face. "Well, did you do something?"
Hope shot him an indignant look, her arms crossing. "What could I possibly have done?" she said, though the irritation in her voice was evident.
Lupin gave her a pointed look. "I might've said he wasn't doing his job well," she admitted in a much quieter tone.
He sighed. "Hope, I know you don't like him, but—"
She cut him off, frustration lacing her words. "But he's the worst! He's awful to Neville, always favoring the Slytherins. He even took five points from Hermione just for helping Neville when he was struggling! She was doing what he should be doing! And even if I hadn't said anything, he would've found some excuse to take points. He's hated me since the first day I stepped into his class."
Lupin sighed, his face softening with empathy. "I suppose that would be my fault," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Hope looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"We went to school together," Lupin said slowly, his gaze distant. "And let's just say we weren't exactly friends."
Lupin frowned, his expression softening as he nodded. "I suppose that would be my fault," he murmured.
Hope furrowed her brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"We went to school together," he said slowly, "and let's just say we weren't exactly friends."
Hope's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the revelation. She had never considered that her dad and Snape might have history. But as she thought about it, it made sense.
Hope processed the information quietly for a moment before moving the conversation along. "So... are you excited for your first lesson?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Lupin's smile was warm but a little uncertain. "More nervous than anything," he admitted.
Well, our previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers were a guy with You-Know-Who under his turban and a picture-obsessed fraud, so... you can't get much worse than that," she teased.
Lupin's lips twitched as he suppressed a smile. "Oh, lucky me."
Hope grinned. "Seriously, I think you'll be great dad," she said sincerely.
Lupin's eyes softened with affection. "That's all the reassurance I need," he said, his voice warm.
She leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. "So... what's the first lesson?"
Lupin gave her a cryptic smile. "You'll have to wait and see, just like everyone else. In my class, you're just another student. No special treatment."
Hope pouted, holding her fingers just barely apart "Not even a little?" she asked.
He chuckled and shook his head. "Not even a little."
"Fine," she huffed.
"Now you wait here and I will be back for the lesson, I have to make final preparations." Lupin nodded and left the room, leaving Hope to sit at one of the desks, idly watching the clock as students began trickling into the classroom. Students trickled in, and soon enough, Hermione and Harry walked in, taking seats beside her. Ron followed shortly behind, sitting next to Hermione.
Harry pulled out a quill and some parchment, leaning over to Hope. "Any idea what the first lesson is gonna be?" he asked, his voice low.
Hope shrugged casually. "He wouldn't tell me."
Hermione glanced around the room, curious. "Where is Professor Lupin, anyway?"
Hope was about to respond when the door opened, and Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train.
"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin greeted. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today will be a practical lesson. You'll only need your wands."
A few curious glances were exchanged as the class tucked away their books. Practical lessons in Defence Against the Dark Arts weren't exactly common, unless you counted that memorable disaster last year when their teacher unleashed a cage of pixies upon them.
"Right then," Lupin continued, once everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."
Still puzzled but intrigued, the class got to its feet. Hope trailed behind, a small knot of curiosity twisting in her stomach.
As they rounded a corner, the first thing they saw was Peeves the poltergeist, hovering upside-down and gleefully stuffing chewing gum into the nearest keyhole. He didn't notice them until Lupin was just two feet away. With a wicked grin, Peeves wiggled his curly-toed feet and burst into song.
"Loony, loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin—"
Hope blinked, glancing between Peeves and her father. Huh. So he's the reason Peeves calls me that, she thought, a flicker of realization settling in.
Despite Peeves' usual lack of manners, he often showed a sliver of respect toward the professors. But Lupin didn't seem bothered. He simply smiled, as if dealing with an irritating child.
"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole, if I were you, Peeves," Lupin said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get to his brooms."
Peeves responded with a wet raspberry.
With a small sigh, Lupin pulled out his wand.
"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Watch closely."
He raised his wand to shoulder height.
"Waddiwasi!"
The gum shot out of the keyhole like a bullet and lodged itself firmly up Peeves' left nostril. The poltergeist spun upright with a startled yelp before zooming away, hurling insults as he vanished.
"Cool, sir!" Dean Thomas exclaimed.
"Thank you, Dean," Lupin replied, tucking his wand away. "Shall we proceed?"
They followed him down a second corridor, sneaking glances at their shabby yet unexpectedly impressive teacher. Hope grinned, swelling with pride.
Lupin finally stopped outside the staffroom door.
"Inside, please," he said, pushing it open and stepping aside.
The staffroom was dim and lined with mismatched chairs, worn but comfortable. Only one teacher occupied the room. Professor Snape sat low in a dark armchair, his eyes narrowing as the students filed in. His lip curled, a sneer barely concealed.
"Leave it open, Lupin," Snape drawled. "I'd rather not witness this."
He rose with a swirl of black robes, stalking toward the door. Just as he reached it, he turned sharply, his gaze locking on Neville.
"Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I'd advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."
Neville's face burned crimson. Harry's glare darkened. Hope's mouth opened, but before she could speak, Ron clapped a firm hand over her mouth, shaking his head.
Lupin's expression remained calm, though his eyes held a flicker of something unreadable.
"I was hoping Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," Lupin said, undeterred. "And I'm sure he will perform it admirably."
Neville flushed deeper, though a faint trace of hope crossed his face.
Snape sneered but said nothing more. He swept from the room, the door snapping shut behind him.
"Now then," Lupin said, his tone lighter. "This way."
At the far end of the staffroom stood a large, rattling wardrobe. It banged softly against the wall, making a few students jump.
"Nothing to worry about," Lupin reassured them. "There's a Boggart in there."
Neville paled. Seamus Finnigan stared wide-eyed at the trembling wardrobe handle.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Lupin explained. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks. I once met one in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster to leave it for our lesson."
He clasped his hands behind his back. "So, the first question we must ask ourselves is: what is a Boggart?"
Hermione's hand shot up. "It's a shape-shifter! It takes the form of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Lupin smiled. Hermione beamed, pleased.
"The Boggart within hasn't yet assumed a form," Lupin continued. "No one knows what it looks like when alone. The moment I release it, it will become whatever we fear most."
A visible shiver passed through Neville. Lupin's steady voice carried on.
"But we have an advantage. Have you spotted it, Harry?"
With Hermione practically bouncing beside him, Harry scrambled for an answer.
"Uh... because there are so many of us, it won't know what to become?"
"Precisely," Lupin praised. Hermione's hand lowered, looking mildly disappointed.
"The charm to defeat a Boggart is simple," Lupin explained, "but it requires mental focus. The key is laughter. Force it into a shape that you find amusing."
"Riddikulus!" he demonstrated.
"Riddikulus!" the class echoed.
"Good," Lupin nodded. "But the word alone won't be enough. This is where you come in, Neville."
The wardrobe thudded ominously. Neville's wide eyes flicked to Lupin.
"What frightens you most in the world?"
Neville's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Didn't catch that, Neville. Sorry," Lupin encouraged gently.
"Professor Snape," Neville whispered, cheeks burning.
Laughter rippled through the class, though even Neville cracked a sheepish grin. Lupin, however, seemed thoughtful.
"Professor Snape... hmm." His eyes twinkled. "You live with your grandmother, don't you?"
"Y-yes, but I don't want the Boggart to turn into her!" Neville stammered.
Lupin chuckled softly. "No, no. Tell me, Neville, what sort of clothes does your grandmother usually wear?"
Neville blinked, startled. "Well... she has this tall hat with a stuffed vulture on top. A green dress, and sometimes she wears a fox-fur scarf."
"And a handbag?"
"A big red one."
"Excellent!" Lupin clapped his hands. "Now, picture her outfit. Every detail. When the Boggart sees you, it will turn into Professor Snape. You will raise your wand and cry 'Riddikulus.' Visualize him in your grandmother's clothes, vulture hat and all."
Laughter burst from the class. Even Neville managed a nervous chuckle.
"If Neville succeeds, the Boggart will move on to the rest of us," Lupin warned. "Take a moment. Think about your worst fear. Imagine how you might make it ridiculous."
The room went quiet. Hope frowned, her thoughts swirling. What was she most afraid of?
Her mind jumped to the giant spiders from second year — their spindly legs, gleaming fangs, and the way their eyes glinted in the dark. Maybe that was it. The fear of being trapped, surrounded. But then another memory crept in.
You-Know-Who. That night in the Forbidden Forest. The twisted figure hunched over a lifeless unicorn, silver blood dripping from his mouth. The image still made her stomach turn. Could that be her worst fear? Facing him?
Then there were the Dementors. The rotting hands vanishing beneath their cloaks. The air turning cold. That horrible, rattling breath. The way they made her feel like she'd never be happy again. A shiver ran down her spine. Maybe they were what scared her most.
But then another thought pushed its way in — her mother. The empty feeling that never really went away. Her father's hollow expression. Losing someone she loved.
Her frown deepened she had no clue what her biggest fear was.
"Everyone ready?" Lupin asked.
Hope's hands trembled. She wasn't sure. Not really. But she nodded, just like everyone else.
"Neville, we'll step back. You'll have a clear field," Lupin said. "On the count of three. One... two... three—now!"
A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.
Neville backed away, his wand raised, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down on him, reaching inside his robes. "R-r-riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.
There was a noise like a whip-crack. Snape stumbled, now wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, swinging a huge crimson handbag from his hand.
Laughter erupted around the room, and the Boggart paused, confused. "Parvati! Forward!" Professor Lupin called.
Parvati walked forward, her face set with determination. Snape turned on her, and with another crack, where he had stood was now a blood-stained, bandaged mummy. Its sightless face turned toward Parvati, and it began to drag its stiff feet toward her.
"Riddikulus!" Parvati cried.
A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet, tangling around it. It fell face-first, its head rolling off as it hit the floor.
"Seamus!" Lupin shouted.
Seamus darted past Parvati. Crack! Where the mummy had been was now a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face—a banshee. She opened her mouth wide, and an unearthly wail filled the room, making the hair on Harry's neck stand on end.
"Riddikulus!" Seamus shouted.
The banshee made a rasping noise, clutching her throat. Her voice was gone.
Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, chasing its own tail in a circle, then—crack!—it became a rattlesnake, slithering and writhing before—crack!—transforming into a single, bloody eyeball.
"It's confused!" Lupin called out. "We're getting there! Dean!"
Dean hurried forward. Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began crawling across the floor like a crab.
"Riddikulus!" Dean yelled.
There was a snap as the hand was caught in a mousetrap. "Excellent! Ron, you're next!"
Ron leapt forward.
Crack!
Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, advanced on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Harry thought Ron had frozen. Then—
"Riddikulus!" Ron bellowed.
The spider's legs vanished, and it rolled over and over. Lavender Brown squealed, rushing out of its way. It came to a halt right at Hope's feet.
"Crack!"
Hope stilled, feeling the air freeze. For all the possibilities she'd imagined the Boggart could turn into, this wasn't it. But when it warped in front of her, a shocked gasp echoed around the room. Hope didn't have time to react. The room fell deathly quiet as everyone stared.
Lavender shrieked.
Standing in front of Hope, growling, was a werewolf—its eyes glowing with menace. But it wasn't just a werewolf. Behind the moon-bound creature stood Harry, Hermione, Ron, George—the entire Weasley family, their faces filled with horror and disgust.
Her stomach turned in knots as she locked eyes with the werewolf. But what sent a chill through her wasn't just the terrifying beast—it was the pair of blue eyes staring back at her.
Her own eyes.
She was scared of becoming a werewolf. Scared of what that would mean for her friends, for the way they would see her. Scared they'd hate her. Scared they wouldn't want to be her friend anymore. Even if she wasn't a werewolf yet, would they still look at her the same way if they found out about her father?
Professor Lupin stepped forward, his face full of panic, but Hope, trembling, raised her wand. "R-riddikulus!" she shouted.
In an instant, the werewolf shrank into a small, yipping puppy, running in circles with her friends laughing joyously around her. Hope glanced at her father, guilt weighing heavily on her chest. His eyes were filled with emotions—concern, pain, pride—but before she could process them all, she lowered her gaze, shaken.
The Boggart tumbled and rolled, landing at Harry's feet. He raised his wand, ready, but—
"Here!" Lupin shouted suddenly, his voice strained as he hurried forward.
Crack!
The yipping puppy had vanished. For a brief moment, everyone looked around wildly to see where it had gone. Then they noticed a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin. He waved his wand casually, muttering "Riddikulus!"
Crack!
"Forward, Neville. Finish him off!" Lupin said, as the Boggart fell to the floor, now a cockroach. Crack! Snape was back. This time, Neville rushed forward, looking determined.
"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split-second view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded in a burst of smoke, vanishing.
"Excellent!" Professor Lupin cried as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see... five points to Gryffindor for everyone who faced the Boggart—ten for Neville for doing it twice—and five each for Hermione and Harry."
"But I didn't do anything," Harry protested.
"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the lesson, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, an excellent lesson. Homework: kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me. Hand it in on Monday. That will be all."
As the class filed out, chattering excitedly, Harry trailed behind, lost in thought. Lupin had stopped him from facing the Boggart, and now he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he hadn't had a fair chance to conquer his own fear.
Hope lingered in the room, her gaze downcast. She couldn't meet her father's eyes, even though she felt him watching her, silently, with concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft.
Hope nodded, still not looking up. "The lesson was really good," she mumbled, twisting her wand in her fingers.
"Hope," Lupin said gently. He waited for her to look at him.
"I think everyone really enjoyed it, too..." she trailed off.
"Hope," he repeated.
Finally, she met his eyes. "It wasn't you," she said quickly. "Th—the werewolf... it wasn't you. It was me."
"I see," Lupin said quietly, his gaze never leaving her face.
"I didn't know that would be my fear," Hope continued, her voice trembling. "I just... I'm really proud of you and... I'd never ask for another dad."
Lupin nodded, "I know," he whispered.
Hope's voice cracked as she spoke again. "I'm not ashamed of you. Not one bit." she looked down, "It's just... I don't want to be... like you," she admitted, guilt creeping in.
Lupin reached out, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "I understand," he said quietly. "I don't wish this on anyone, especially not you."
Tears welled in Hope's eyes as she sniffled, wrapping her hands around her father's middle. He hugged her back, holding her close as she cried. Lupin held her tightly, his heart aching with guilt, knowing he was the reason she was carrying this burden.
"I love you," Hope whispered into his chest.
"I love you too," Lupin replied, his voice thick with emotion as he held her close.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Later that night, Hope trudged through the dimly lit hallways, her body weary after spending three hours in detention with Snape. The smell of horned toads still clung to her robes, and she couldn't shake the queasy feeling from disemboweling a barrel of them. Her mind foggy from the exhausting task, she longed to reach the Gryffindor Tower, curl up in her bed, and forget the day ever happened.
But as she walked, a strange sensation crept over her. She glanced around, half-expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as the feeling of being watched washed over her.
She shook her head, trying to dismiss it as nothing. The hallways were empty, the only sound the echo of her footsteps. Still, the unease didn't leave. She couldn't help glancing over her shoulder every few steps, but there was no one there.
The faster she walked, the more she felt like something—someone—was following her. A knot of tension tightened in her chest. She quickened her pace, her steps becoming more hurried, until suddenly, she bumped into something solid.
She yelped, stumbling forward.
"Whoa there, Little Lupin," a voice said, familiar and warm, cutting through her panicked thoughts.
Hope blinked, looking up to see George Weasley standing before her, grinning widely. Relief washed over her in an instant.
George's grin widened at her reaction. "What, did you think I was a ghost?"
She laughed, feeling the tension leave her body. "No, just someone who doesn't know how to stop sneaking up on people," she shot back, her grin matching his.
"It's not sneaking up, when the other person isn't paying attention where they're going," he said casually. "You walked into me," he added playfully.
"Speaking of which, what are you doing sneaking around anyway?" Hope raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing.
George grinned happily. "Fred and I pulled off another prank, but then Filch showed up. We had to scatter before he caught us and sent us straight to McGonagall's office."
Hope smiled. "What was it this time?"
George leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "We enchanted some of the suits of armor to do a little dance routine. Fred's idea. You should've seen Filch's face when one of them kicked him in the shins."
Hope snorted, unable to contain her laughter. "Well that's definitely worth being sent to McGonagall's office."
George chuckled along with her. "Oh, absolutely. Anyway, what about you? What's got you out here this late? You don't look like you've been up to anything fun."
Hope groaned, rolling her eyes. "Snape gave me detention."
George raised an eyebrow. "Again? What'd you do this time?"
Hope huffed, rolling her eyes. "Why does everyone think I've done something to deserve detention? I'm just trying to survive his class."
George gave her a knowing grin, not even needing to answer the question.
Hope rolled her eyes with a small smile. "Fine, I may have told Snape that maybe if he actually did his job, Neville wouldn't be struggling so much," Hope admitted.
George stopped walking for a moment, a look of sheer awe on his face. "That—that might be the most brilliant thing I've ever heard," he said, laughing out loud.
She laughed along with him. "Well, clearly Snape didn't appreciate it. But I'm glad someone does."
"Oh, I appreciate it. A lot," George said, turning to her, clearly impressed. "I've never met anyone who talks to Snape like you do. You're... you're something else, Little Lupin."
Hope felt her stomach flutter at the compliment, her heart picking up pace. "Thanks," she said shyly. "You're not so bad yourself, Weasley," she added.
For a moment, they walked in comfortable silence, the occasional laugh breaking through as they chatted about their day. But George couldn't ignore the feeling of warmth that seemed to surround Hope. He liked it. He liked her.