Chapter 5
Remus stood in the corridor outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. The familiar sounds of students chattering and footsteps echoing in the distance filled the air, a comforting reminder of his own days at Hogwarts. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. Teaching was a new challenge for him, one that he was determined to excel at, but doubts lingered in the back of his mind. Would the students accept him? Could he live up to their expectations and be the kind of teacher they needed?
As he adjusted his frayed robes, memories of his own Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons flooded back. He recalled the thrill of learning new spells, the excitement whenever he excelled beyond expectations, and the guidance of teachers who had inspired him. He wanted to offer the same inspiration to his students, to ignite their curiosity and confidence. But there was more at stake now. With Sirius Black on the loose, he felt a heavy responsibility to prepare them for the dangers ahead.
His thoughts wandered to Harry. Seeing James’s son, so much like his father, filled Remus with a bittersweet mixture of pride and sorrow. He hoped to be a positive influence in Harry's life, to offer him the support and guidance he himself had once received.
Taking one last deep breath, Remus pushed open the door, stepping into the classroom with a determined smile.The smile only grew as he took in the room filled with eager, curious faces. Among them, Harry’s familiar green eyes met his, a mixture of embarrassment and pride visible in the boy's expression.
"Good afternoon," Remus began, setting his worn briefcase on the desk. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today’s lesson will be practical. You will only need your wands."
A wave of confusion swept through the room as the students complied, their anticipation growing. Remus could sense the excitement and apprehension in equal measure. He couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for these young witches and wizards, eager to learn and prove themselves.
Remus opted for a practical lesson over a theoretical one for his first class, convinced it would engage the students more effectively. Years of facing real dangers had taught him that practical skills often outweighed theoretical knowledge. He wanted his students to gain confidence through experience, to feel the thrill of casting spells and facing challenges head-on. He also knew that a hands-on approach would help him connect with them, breaking the ice in a way that lectures never could. This first lesson was his opportunity to show them that learning Defence Against the Dark Arts could be both enjoyable and empowering.
"Right then," he said, once everyone was ready, "if you’d follow me."
He led the class through the corridors, his thoughts briefly drifting to Sirius Black. The constant worry gnawed at him, but he forced himself to focus. Today was about the students, about Harry. As they turned a corner, Peeves the poltergeist came into view, stuffing gum into a keyhole.
"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang mockingly. Remus couldn’t suppress a smile.
"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said calmly. "Mr Filch won’t be able to get into his brooms."
Peeves had always been a nuisance, but the Marauders had found him more amusing than annoying. He remembered how Peeves once turned the Great Hall into a chaos of enchanted water balloons during a feast, and how he and his friends had once tricked Peeves into helping them with a particularly ambitious prank involving the Slytherin common room. Peeves had delighted in the chaos, cackling madly as students scrambled to avoid the enchanted mess. Despite his mischief, there was a certain… dare he say admiration… between them and the poltergeist. Peeves was a symbol of the mischief and freedom of their youth, a reminder of the simpler, happier times before the world grew darker and more complicated.
Peeves responded with a wet raspberry, and Remus sighed, drawing his wand. "This is a useful little spell. Watch closely."
"Waddiwasi!" he incanted, and the gum shot from the keyhole into Peeves' nose. The class erupted in amazement, and Dean Thomas exclaimed, "Cool, sir!"
"Thank you, Dean. Shall we proceed?" Remus replied, pocketing his wand.
The class’s newfound respect for him was palpable as they continued. Outside the staff room, Remus opened the door and ushered the students in. Professor Snape, seated and sneering, immediately soured the atmosphere.
"Leave it open, Lupin," Snape said coldly. "I'd rather not witness this." He stood, his robes billowing dramatically as he exited, pausing only to disparage Neville Longbottom.
“Possibly no one’s warned you Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to trust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear”
Remus's feelings toward Snape had always been complex, but hatred had a prominent place. In their school days, Snape had been insufferably smug, constantly trying to catch Remus and his friends breaking rules. Now, as an adult, Snape's disdain had only grown sharper, laced with cruel barbs aimed at students like Neville. Remus hated how Snape's bitterness overshadowed his brilliance, turning a capable wizard into a figure of loathing and fear.
Remus’s heart ached for Neville, his protective instincts flaring. "I was hoping Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, casting a reassuring smile at the nervous boy. Snape’s cruelty was infuriating, and Remus made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him.
"Now, then," Remus began, directing the class’s attention to the rattling wardrobe. "There’s a Boggart in there. Can anyone tell me what a Boggart is?"
Hermione's hand shot up, and she answered correctly. Remus praised her, then continued, "The Boggart hasn’t assumed a form yet. When it comes out, it will become what each of us fears most. But we have an advantage: the charm that repels a Boggart is laughter. You must force it to become something amusing."
Remus knew that if he faced the Boggart, it would transform into a glittering full moon. For years, the moon had haunted his dreams, a symbol of the curse that dictated his life. It would definitely be a moon, Remus thought. The full moon had always been his greatest fear, the symbol of his curse and the pain it brought. But then he stopped and reconsidered. After everything that had happened, after Sirius’s escape, could it be that his fear had shifted? The idea unsettled him. What if the Boggart turned into Sirius? The friend he once loved, now a supposed traitor and murderer, haunted his thoughts more than he liked to admit. The moon was a known enemy, a predictable terror. Sirius, however, brought a different kind of fear—one filled with betrayal and a dark, twisting pain that was harder to confront. Remus hoped desperately that the moon would remain his greatest fear, for facing a Boggart Sirius would unleash a torrent of emotions he wasn't ready to handle.
Shaking himself from his untimely self discovery, he demonstrated the incantation, "Riddikulus," and then turned to Neville. "First things first: what frightens you most in the world?"
Neville whispered, "Professor Snape."
Nearly everyone laughed, and even Neville managed a weak smile. Remus, however, was thoughtful. "Neville, could you tell us what your grandmother usually wears?"
As Neville described his grandmother’s eccentric attire, Remus formulated a plan. "When the Boggart sees you, it will become Professor Snape. You will raise your wand and say 'Riddikulus,' focusing on your grandmother’s clothes."
The class erupted in laughter at the image, and the wardrobe shook violently. Remus guided Neville through the process, feeling a pang of sympathy for the boy's terror. When Neville succeeded, transforming the fearsome Snape into a comical figure, the room filled with applause.
Witnessing each child in the class conquer their deepest fears with the "Riddikulus" charm gave Remus a profound sense of pride. He admired how each student faced their Boggart head-on, transforming terror into laughter with determination and courage.
Remus wished things were as simple as casting spells to dispel fears. For him, the moon had always been his greatest fear, a constant reminder of his lycanthropy and the challenges it brought. Yet, as he watched the students laugh and cheer at their successes, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps life could be as manageable as these magical lessons portrayed. If only facing his own fears could be as straightforward as guiding these young witches and wizards to face theirs, Remus thought, perhaps the burden of his own anxieties would feel lighter.
Harry eagerly stepped forward, wand at the ready.
Shit!
What would be the biggest fear for a boy whose parents were wiped out by the most feared wizard of all?
Remus swiftly moved to pull him back, a firm hand on his shoulder. "Not today, Bambi," Remus murmured softly, a mix of affection and caution in his voice. He couldn't let Harry face Voldemort, even in a classroom setting. The memory of their last encounter with the Dementors was still fresh, and Remus couldn't risk triggering Harry's deepest fears unnecessarily.
Inwardly, Remus wrestled with the conflicted emotions of wanting to empower Harry and the urge to shield him from harm. The Boggart, capable of transforming into the darkest manifestations of one's fears, was not something to toy with lightly, especially for a young wizard who had already faced more than his share of horrors.
"Let everyone else have their turn first," Remus suggested gently, his eyes meeting Harry's with a mixture of understanding and reassurance. Deep down, he hoped Harry would appreciate the caution, knowing that protecting him went beyond physical safety—it meant safeguarding his emotional resilience as well.
As the class dispersed, Remus approached Harry, intending to explain his reasoning before things escalated.
"Remus, why did you stop me?" Harry's voice was tinged with hurt and anger, barely containing his emotions.
Remus sighed, trying to choose his words carefully. "Harry, it's not about not trusting you. I just... I couldn't risk what might have come out of that wardrobe. It could have been something far worse than you imagined."
"But it wouldn't have been Voldemort!" Harry shot back, his voice rising. "It would have been a Dementor, and if you'd just let me try—"
"And what if it had been Voldemort?" Remus interjected, his tone firm yet gentle. "I can't let you face that, Harry. Not here, not in this classroom. You've faced more than most already, and I can't risk your well-being."
Harry's frustration boiled over. "But I could handle it! You don't think I can face a Boggart?"
Remus hesitated, his heart aching for Harry's desire to prove himself. "It's not about your courage, Harry. It's about protecting you. Facing a Boggart is one thing, but I couldn't bear to see you face something that could truly harm you."
Harry's eyes flashed with defiance. "I would have been fine. You'll never know if you don't give me a chance."
Remus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his voice softening. "I understand why you're upset, and I'm sorry if it seemed like I didn't trust you. But please, trust me when I say I'm only looking out for you. There are some things that even magic can't prepare us for."
Harry stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Remus to ponder whether he had made the right decision. Doubt gnawed at him; had he underestimated Harry's resilience? He knew his godson's bravery all too well, yet the fear of what could have emerged from that wardrobe lingered. Remus sighed heavily, hoping Harry would understand his intentions were rooted in love and protection. Watching the closed door, he silently prayed he hadn't caused damage too incurable to their relationship.