Puppet Strings

Thursday morning, Malfoy still hadn’t returned to classes. And Y/n still hadn’t been able to talk with Harry. She tried to ask Hermione, but the poor girl seemed so busy with classes that Y/n thought better of it.

Emi, Val, and Solene walked with Y/n up to their first Divination class of the week. On Tuesday it had been cancelled—apparently that morning Professor Trelawney had accidentally knocked over a vase that was the color red, which she took to be a “bad omen.”

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Sol nudged Y/n and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it. 

“How’re we supposed to get up there?” Emi asked, frowning.

As though in answer to her question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at their feet. Everyone got quiet, then began to ascend.

They emerged into the strangest-looking classroom Y/n had ever seen. In fact, it didn’t look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups. 

“Looks like my tía’s crazy half-sister’s place,” Val muttered, looking around.

“I think it’s cozy,” Emi said.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. “Welcome,” it said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”

Y/n’s immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings. 

“Sit, my children, sit,” she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Emi, Val, Solene, and Y/n sat themselves around the same round table. 

“Welcome to Divination,” said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.” 

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, “So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field. . . .

“Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,” Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face.

“We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. 

“In the second term,” Professor Trelawney went on, “we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever.”

 A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

“Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing.” She stood.

Val and Solene paired off, so Y/n went with Emi to get their teacups filled. They then went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped them. 

“Right,” said Y/n as they both opened their books at pages five and six. “What can you see in mine?”

Emi frowned. “It looks like….a mountain? Maybe?”

“Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!” Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom. 

Y/n tried to pull herself together. “Right, you’ve got a crooked sort of cross . . .” She consulted Unfogging the Future. “That means you’re going to have ‘trials and suffering’ — sorry about that — but there’s a thing that could be the acorn . . . hang on . . . that means ‘a windfall, unexpected gold’. . . so you’re going to suffer but be very rich. . . .” 

“Sounds okay to me,” Emi said, shrugging. She still looked into Y/n’s cup. “Uh….besides the mountain, there’s an animal…?”

“Let me see that, dear,” Professor Trelawney said, suddenly appearing. Emi jumped, almost dropping the cup. Professor Trelawney caught it.

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a turn, gasped, and then screamed. 

Y/n frowned. What….

Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed. “My dear girl . . . my girl, dear girl . . . no . . . it is kinder not to say . . . no . . . don’t ask me. . . .” 

“What is it, Professor?” said a boy at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Y/n and Emi’s table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney’s chair to get a good look at Y/n’s cup.

“My dear….” Professor Trelawney opened her eyes, shakily pointing. “You have the same exact readings your brother did. Oh my, your family….oh dear, oh dear girl….”

“What is it?” Y/n asked, a bit impatiently.

“My dear,” Professor Trelawney’s huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the Grim.” 

“The what?” said Y/n. He could tell that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand; Val shrugged at her and a few other faces looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Y/n hadn’t understood. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear girl, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!”

Y/n’s stomach lurched, but she ignored it. “Well….I mean, it’s just tea leaves, right?”

“I think we will leave the lesson here for today,” said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice, seemingly not hearing her. “Yes . . . please pack away your things. . . .” 

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. 

“Until we meet again,” said Professor Trelawney faintly, “fair fortune be yours.”

Y/n and the others descended Professor Trelawney’s ladder and the winding stair in silence.

“Well,” Y/n finally said. “At least we know bad luck runs in the family now.”

“Aren’t you adopted?” Val pointed out.

“Semantics.”

Val chuckled. The tone seemed generally lighter now as the group made their way to double Potions with Gryffindor. About halfway through the lesson Malfoy returned. 

He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Y/n’s opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

“How is it, Draco?” simpered Pansy Parkinson. “Does it hurt much?” 

“Yeah,” said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Y/n saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away. 

“Settle down, settle down,” said Professor Snape idly. 

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. 

“Sir,” Malfoy called, loud enough that Y/n heard, “sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —”

“Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,” said Snape without looking up. 

Ron went brick red. He hissed something at Malfoy, but Y/n couldn’t hear.

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned —

“Orange, Longbottom,” said Snape, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. “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 was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. 

“Please, sir,” said Hermione, “please, I could help Neville put it right —” 

“I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. 

“Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly.” Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. 

“Help me!” he moaned to Hermione.

Val and Y/n returned to their potions. “What a prick,” Y/n muttered.

“He’s always like that,” Val said.

“Can’t believe he’s our head of house.”

“I know,” Val said. “But….well he’s not so bad to us. Still a jerk, though.”

Y/n sighed and stirred her potion.

“….Sirius Black…”

At hearing that name, Y/n turned to see Seamus Finnigan talking to Harry. 

“Where’s he been sighted?” said Harry and Ron quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely. 

“Not too far from here,” said Seamus, who looked excited. “It was a Muggle who saw him. ’Course, she didn’t really understand. The Muggles think he’s just an ordinary criminal, don’t they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone.” 

“Not too far from here . . . ,” Ron repeated, looking significantly at Harry. He turned around and saw Malfoy watching closely. “What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?” 

But Malfoy’s eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry. He leaned across the table.

“Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Harry offhandedly. 

Malfoy’s thin mouth was curving in a mean smile. “Of course, if it was me,” he said quietly, “I’d have done something before now. I wouldn’t be staying in school like a good boy, I’d be out there looking for him.” 

“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” said Ron roughly. 

“Don’t you know, Potter?” breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. 

“Know what?” 

Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh. “Maybe you’d rather not risk your neck,” he said. “Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I’d want revenge. I’d hunt him down myself.” 

“What are you talking about?” said Harry angrily, but at that moment Snape called, “You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so 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 was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn’t see. 

Y/n and Val packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner. 

“Did you hear that?” Y/n asked Val.

“Every word. What do you think he meant?”

“Dunno. I might confront him about it later.”

“He seems to have it out for Harry, but not you,” Val observed. “Why?”

Y/n shrugged. “Maybe it’s just because I’m in Slytherin.”

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. 

“Everyone gather ’round,” said Snape, his black eyes glittering, “and watch what happens to Longbottom’s toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.” 

Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville’s potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor’s throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape’s palm. 

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. 

“Five points from Gryffindor,” said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.”

Y/n and the other three headed to lunch.

“Five points just because she helped him?” Y/n asked incredulously.

Val shrugged. “He seems to have it out for Longbottom. Suppose it’s cuz he’s afraid of him.”

“Why hasn’t he been fired yet?”

“Well….I mean, sure, he’s a bastard, but he really is a genius with potions,” Val admitted. 

Y/n sighed and shook her head, then dropped the topic. 

***

Professor Lupin wasn’t there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. 

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, as though he had had a few square meals. 

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.” 

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books.

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. “If you’d follow me.” 

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum. Peeves didn’t look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song. 

“Loony, loopy Lupin,” Peeves sang. “Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —” 

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling. 

“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.” 

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin’s words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry. 

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. “This is a useful little spell,” he told the class over his shoulder. “Please watch closely.” He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, “Waddiwasi!” and pointed it at Peeves. 

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves’s left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

“Cool, sir!” said a Slytherin boy in amazement. 

“Thank you,” said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. “Shall we proceed?” 

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door. 

“Inside, please,” said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back. The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. 

Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, “Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this.” 

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him as he exited. Lupin didn’t seem fazed.

“Now, then,” said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. 

As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. “Nothing to worry about,” said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. “There’s a boggart in there.”

 Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. 

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” said Professor Lupin. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. 

“So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?” 

Solene put up her hand. 

“It’s a shape-shifter,” Val said, translating as Sol signed. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Professor Lupin, and Sol glowed after Val signed what he had said. “So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. 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. 

“This means,” said Professor Lupin, “that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Y/n?” 

Y/n jolted at being called out. “Because there are so many of us, it won’t know what shape it should be?” 

“Precisely,” said Professor Lupin. “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. 

“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!” said the class together. 

“This class is ridiculous,” Malfoy muttered.

“Good,” said Professor Lupin, either ignoring or not hearing him. “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. Emi, would you mind helping me?”

Emi looked apprehensive as she walked forward as though she were heading for the gallows. 

“Right, Emi,” said Professor Lupin. “First things first: What would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?” 

Emi’s lips moved, but no noise came out. She looked nervous, even for her. 

“Didn’t catch that, Emi, sorry,” said Professor Lupin cheerfully. 

Emi looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help her.

“Professor, can I help instead?” Val asked. 

Emi looked relieved and Lupin hesitated before nodding. “Very well.” Val stepped forward and Emi retreated, looking shaken. Y/n wanted to check on her, but a moment later Emi teared up and fled the room.

“Now, what is it you fear the most?”

“Spiders, for sure.”

Professor Lupin nodded. “When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe and sees you, it will assume the form of a spider,” said Lupin. “And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry ‘Riddikulus’ — and concentrate hard on something you find amusing. If all goes well, the boggart will change based on your visualization.” 

Lupin now addressed the class. “If Val is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” said Professor Lupin. “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 room went quiet. Y/n thought . . . What scared her most in the world? She wasn’t sure. Could a boggart scare someone if even they didn’t know what they were afraid of?

She’d just have to be quick on her feet, then.

“Everyone ready?” said Professor Lupin. Everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves. 

“Val, we’re going to back away,” said Professor Lupin. “Let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward. . . . Everyone back, now, so Val can get a clear shot —” 

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Val alone beside the wardrobe. She looked a bit pale, but had pushed up the sleeves of her robes and was holding his wand ready. 

“On the count of three,” said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. “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. 

Thousands of spiders skittered out, then combined to take the shape of a large, towering black widow.

“Riddikulus!” said Val, voice strained. 

There was a noise like a whip crack. The spider stumbled; it was now wearing roller skates. It slipped and fell on its back, legs waggling helplessly in the air.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, “Solene! Forward!” 

Solene walked forward, her face set. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Solene and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising.

Y/n felt a surge of panic. How was Solene supposed to defend herself if she couldn’t say the spell….?

But Solene waved her wand without a word. A bandage unraveled at the mummy’s feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

She can do nonverbal magic, Y/n thought in wonder. Already, at this age? She supposed that Solene had had to adapt, but still….this meant Solene was very, very talented with magic.

Professor Lupin took notice of this and beamed before calling another student forward. 

Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then — crack! — became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before — crack! — becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

“It’s confused!” shouted Lupin. “We’re getting there!” 

Another student hurried forward. Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab. 

“Riddikulus!” yelled the boy. There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap. “Excellent! Draco, you next!” 

Draco leapt forward. Crack! 

The class went quiet as the boggart took the shape of a taller man with long hair the same pale blonde as Draco’s.

Draco went very red. “Riddikulus!” he shouted, raising his wand. His father was then put into a very flowy, very feminine green dress with a floral hat. The class burst into laughter.

Draco retreated back into the throng of students, muttering to himself.

I didn’t even realize that the boggart advanced on me. I raised my wand, ready.

Another whiplike crack.

The entire class screamed in a panic as Lord Voldemort materialized. But that wasn’t all—Harry was there, too, cowering before the Dark Lord. 

Y/n watched, paralyzed in fear, as Voldemort raised his wand towards Harry and bellowed, “Avada—!”

“Here!” shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. 

Crack! The scene had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, “Riddikulus!” almost lazily.

The boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

Silence.

Y/n was shaking. She felt sick. Her boggart….it had….she had almost watched Harry die….

She didn’t even realize there were tears on her cheeks until Val handed her a tissue from her pocket.

“Thanks,” she whispered, dabbing at her eyes.

“Your mascara’s smudged. Here, let me.” Val was pale, too, but she still helped, wiping away the makeup from under Y/n’s eyes.

Lupin was talking to the class. “Excellent,” he said, though his voice was a bit strained. “Well done, everyone. . . . Let me see . . . five points to Slytherin for every person to tackle the boggart. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me . . . to be handed in on Monday. That will be all.”

Y/n moved to leave with the rest of the class, but stopped upon hearing Lupin’s voice.

“Miss Potter, will you stay back a moment?” 

Y/n waved goodbye to an apprehensive Val and Sol. When the room was empty, she turned to Lupin.

“Yes, Professor?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Lupin’s voice was kind, but she could see that he was shaken up by the incident too.

“I’ll be fine,” Y/n said. “I just…I didn’t expect it. I couldn’t pinpoint a single fear when you asked us to, so I guess that….” She thought of Harry’s terrified eyes, looking up at Voldemort. “I guess the boggart just chose something for me.” She didn’t add that it chose correctly.

Lupin nodded thoughtfully. After a moment, he said, “You’re very protective of Harry, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Y/n said. “He…well, he gets into trouble easily.” She hesitated. “Did Harry’s boggart turn into….” She swallowed. “Did it turn into Voldemort, too?”

Lupin didn’t balk at the name, strangely enough. “No. Harry didn’t have a chance to face it.”

“Oh.”

“Please, there’s no shame in not being able to face a boggart. Especially one as frightening as yours.”

Y/n nodded and let Lupin show her out. “Professor?”

“Hm?”

“What was your boggart?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Lupin said with a pained smile. “Best be off now. You don’t want to miss your next class.”

Y/n almost argued, but nodded and took off, exiting the room.