Chapter 6
I sit in Potions class across from Ron and Harry, next to Hermione, when the door suddenly opens and I see Draco Malfoy swagger into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling. He got hurt a few days ago when we had our first lesson of Care of Magical Creatures. He got mad at the fact that Harry was able to ride the hippogriff and tried to - I don't know - show he could do it too. The creature attacked him when he got too close and he broke his arm. Now he acts as though he survived some dreadful battle.
"How is it, Draco?" Asks Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," Malfoy say, putting on a brave sort of grimace and I roll my eyes.
"Settle down, settle down," says Professor Snape.
From the corner of my eye I see Harry and Ron scowling at each other. Malfoy sets up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, across from me.
"Sir," Malfoy calls, "I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm –"
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," says Snape, without looking up.
Ron goes brick red.
"There's nothing wrong with your arm!" I hiss at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirks across the table and winks at me. I feel like I might just shove those roots down his throat. I narrow my eyes at him.
He turns to Ron and says, "Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots." Ron seizes his knife, pulls Malfoy's roots towards him and chops them roughly, so that they are all different sizes. "Professor," drawls Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
Snape approaches our table, stares at the roots, then gives Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his greasy black hair. "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
"But sir –!" Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.
"Now," says Snape in his most dangerous voice. Ron shoves his across the table at Malfoy, then takes up the knife again.
"And, sir, I'll need this Shrivelfig skinned," says Malfoy.
"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's Shrivelfig," says Snape, giving Harry the look of loathing he reserves just for him. Snape never refers to me directly, and I've noticed that, if he doesn't have to, he tries not to look at me at all. Although he does stare sometimes when he thinks I'm not looking, which makes me extremely uncomfortable. Sometimes I try to push him, see how far he'll let me go until he has to acknowledge me.
"Here, Ron, take mine. I can handle those." I say, passing him my sliced roots and taking his.
"Thanks." Ron says glumly.
A few cauldrons away, Neville's potion, which is supposed to be a bright, acid green, is unfortunately orange. "Orange, Longbottom," says Snape, "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 is pink and trembling. He looks as though he is on the verge of tears.
"Please, sir," says Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right –"
"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," says Snape coldly, and Hermione goes 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."
I get up from my sit and walk over to Neville. "It's ok Neville, we'll help you make it better."
Neville shakes his head, "Snape said no help. I don't want you getting in trouble for me."
"He only said that Mione can't help you. Never said anything about me." I say with a smile. "Don't worry, I'm not scared of him."
I help Neville with his position until I'm sure it's perfect and can't do any damage to his frog.
At the end of the lesson, as promised, Snape strides over to Neville, who is hiding by his cauldron. "Everyone gather round," says Snape, "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 picks up Trevor the toad in his left hand, and dips a small spoon into Neville's potion, which is now green. He trickles a few drops down Trevor's throat. There is a moment of hushed silence, then there is a small pop, and Trevor, the size of a tadpole is wriggling in Snape's palm. "Five points from Gryffindor," says Snape, returning Trevor to his original size. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger."
"She didn't help him, sir." I say, "I did." His gaze falls on me and I feel my stomach turning. The look in his eyes is almost unreadable but I can detect some annoyance.
"Class dismissed." Snape says, deciding that
ignoring me is the best course of action.
We climb the steps to the Entrance Hall. "Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"
I shrug, "he only said Hermione wasn't allowed to help." I look over my shoulder at her but she is not there. I look around, no Hermione. "Where is Mione?"
Harry and Ron turn, too. We are at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass us, heading for the Great Hall for lunch. "She was right behind us," says Ron, frowning.
"There she is," says Harry. Hermione is panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs, one hand clutching her bag, the other tucking something down the front of her robes.
"Where did you go? You were right behind me." I ask her.
"What?" Hermione looks slightly confused. "Oh – I had to go back for something. Oh, no..." A seam had split on Hermione's bag.
"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asks her.
"You know how many subjects I'm taking," says Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"
"But –" Ron turns over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers – "you haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defence Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."
"Oh, yes," says Hermione vaguely, but she packs all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she adds, marching off towards the Great Hall.
"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asks me and Harry.
I think I do.
——————————————
We're sitting at the Gryffindor table, talking and eating our lunch. I'm almost done with mine when I feel someone sit down beside me.
"Hello, little Charlie." I don't even have to look to know who it is.
Fred and I did not, in fact, speak again after our conversation outside the great hall. I was too embarrassed to bring it up, and I guess he noticed because he didn't bring it up either.
I feel someone on my other side, "We've got a question for you." George says sitting down on my left.
"Ask away." I say looking between them.
"You see, tomorrow is the back-to-school party..." George starts.
"And as you may have heard, Gryffindor is hosting this year." Fred continues.
"So? What does it have to do with me? I don't even think I'm allowed to go." I say, looking at them suspiciously. Most parties that are being held here, at Hogwarts, are only open to forth years and older.
"We need your help with a potion." George states. I frown.
"We want to sell anti-hangover potions at the party." Fred finishes.
"I see..." last year I heard some of the older students saying they were having the worst headaches after one of the Gryffindor parties and I remembered reading about a general cure for migraines and basically all kinds of pains. I looked it up at the library and it wasn't that hard to make so I told Fred and George and they said that they could get me the supplies to make it if I made some for them for the next party. And so it became a regular thing. Now they are known for their ability to get absolutely legless and wake up the next morning as if nothing happened.
But now they want me to make an amount big enough for them to sell, and in less then a day. I better be getting something out of this.
As if reading my thoughts, Harry, who is sitting directly across from me, clears his throat and asks, "What do we get from this?"
Well I'm the one doing all the work but I guess we're all benefiting from this.
"What do you want?" Fred asks me.
"We want to come to the party." Ron and Harry say at the same time. I look at them with an annoyed expression and they both shrug. I glance at Hermione and she is shaking her head.
It's not the worst idea...
Fred is still looking at me and I realize he's still waiting for an answer. From me. I nod my head, "I suppose we want to go to the party." I say with a shrug.
"We'll see what we can do, but you'll have to make at least fifty dowses for us. Can you do that?" George says.
"Yes, but you'll have to get me the ingredients." I say.
"Then it's a done deal." He says, extending his hand for me to shake.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you, little Charlie." Fred says getting up from his sit. George does the same and they walk off and out of the grate hall.
"You are my favorite person." Ron says.
I smile at him and Harry and I feel myself blushing a little.
Why am I blushing??
And all I wish is for it to be true.
——————————
Professor Lupin is not here when we arrive at his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. We sit down and take out our books, quills and parchment. A few moments later he finally enters the room. Lupin smiles vaguely and place his old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He is as shabby as ever but looks healthier than he had on the train. I wander what's his story, where he came from.
"Good afternoon," he says. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands."
I glance curiously at my friends while putting my book back in my bag. We never had a practical Defence Against the Dark Arts before.
"Right then," says Professor Lupin, when everyone is ready, "if you'd follow me." We all get to our feet and follow Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He leads us along the deserted corridor and around a corner, we stop, right outside the staff room door. "Inside, please," says Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back. The staff room is empty except for one teacher.
Professor Snape is sitting in a low armchair, and he looks around as we get inside. His eyes are glittering and there is a nasty sneer playing on his mouth. As Professor Lupin comes in and closes the door behind him, Snape says, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He get to his feet and strides past the us, his black robes billowing behind him. Why does he have to be so dramatic all the time? At the doorway he turns on his heel and says, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult."
Neville goes scarlet. I glare at Snape, so angry I can't even think about the consequences of talking back to him. It's bad enough that he bullies Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.
I'm about to respond to his remarks, to tell him to shove his greasy hair down his malicious mouth when Professor Lupin says, "I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation, and I am sure he will perform it admirably."
Neville's face goes, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curls, but he leaves, shutting the door with a snap.
"Now, then," says Professor Lupin, beckoning us towards the end of the room, where there is nothing except an old wardrobe. As Professor Lupin goes to stand next to it, the wardrobe gives a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. "Nothing to worry about," says Professor Lupin calmly, as a few people jump backwards in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there."
Most people seems to feel that this is something to worry about. Neville looks at Professor Lupin with a look of pure terror, and Seamus eyes the now rattling doorknob apprehensively. I look at Harry on my right and he looks a bit confused, probably not knowing what a Boggart is.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," says 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?"
I lift my hand to answer his question but Hermione lifts hers faster, I put my hand down. "It's a shape-shifter," she says. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."
"Couldn't have put it better myself," says Professor Lupin, and Hermione smiles brightly. "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," continues Professor Lupin, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"
"Er– because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"
"Precisely," says Professor Lupin, "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. It becomes confused. Which should it 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 practise the charm without wands first. After me, please ... riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" Everyone saystogether.
"Good," says Professor Lupin. "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, Neville." The wardrobe shakes again. "Right, Neville, First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"
Neville's lips moves, but no noise comes out.
"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.
Neville looks around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then says, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."
Nearly everyone laughes. Even Neville grins apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looks thoughtful.
"Professor Snape... hmmm... Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"
"Er – yes," says Neville nervously. "But – I don't want the Boggart to turn into her, either."
"No, no, you misunderstand me," says Lupin, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"
Neville looks startled, but says, "Well ... always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress... green, normally... and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."
"And a handbag?" prompts Professor Lupin.
"A big red one," Neville nods.
"Right then," says Professor Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"
"Yes," Neville answers uncertainly.
"When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," says Lupin. "And you will raise your wand – thus – and cry 'Riddikulus' – and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, that green dress, that big red handbag."
There is a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbles more violently.
"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to turn his attention to each of us in turn," continues 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 goes quiet. I try to think about my worst fears, last year when Harry and Ron were in the Chamber of Secrets I thought that that was my worst nightmare coming true. That if something happened to them I would die. Maybe Harry dying is my worst fear... but how can I make that into a funny scene? Should I say something? Maybe I should imagine he was just sleeping and I have to wake him up with a bucket of water. But that sounds awfully complicated.
I look around me. I see Harry shiver. He must be thinking of Voldemort. I give him an encouraging smile and look around us. Many people have their eyes shut tight. Ron is muttering to himself. Hermione looks concerned.
"Everyone ready?" Says Professor Lupin.
I'm not ready.
"Neville, we're going to back away," says Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward ... everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot –"
We all retreat, backing against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.
"On the count of three, Neville," says Professor Lupin, pointing his wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One – two – three – now!"
A jet of sparks shoot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hooknosed and menacing, Professor Snape steps out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville backs away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape is bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.
"R-r-riddikulus!" Neville squeaks.
There is a noise like a whip-crack. Snape stumbls. He is wearing a long, lacetrimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and swinging a huge crimson handbag from his hand. There is a roar of laughter, the Boggart pauses, confused, and Professor Lupin shouts, "Parvati! Forward!" Parvati walks forward, her face set. Snape rounds on her. There is another crack, and where he had stood is a bloodstained, bandaged mummy. Its sightless face is turned to Parvati and it begins to walk towards her, very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising –
"Riddikulus!" cries Parvati.
A bandage unravels at the mummy's feet, it becomes entangled, fall face forwards and its head rolls off.
"Seamus!" roars Professor Lupin.
Seamus darts past Parvati. Crack! Where the mummy had been is a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face – a banshee, I realize. She opens her mouth wide, and an unearthly sound fills the room, a long, wailing shriek.
"Riddikulus!" shouts Seamus.
The banshee makes a rasping noise and clutches her throat, her voice is gone. Crack! The banshee turns into a rat, which chases its tail in a circle, then – crack! – becomes a rattlesnake– crack! – becoming a single, bloody eyeball.
"It's confused!" shouts Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"
Dean hurries forward. Crack! The eyeball becomes a severed hand, which flips over, and begins to creep along the floor like a crab.
"Riddikulus!" Yells Dean.
There is a snap, and the hand is trapped in a mousetrap.
"Excellent! Ron, you next!"
Ron leaps forward. Crack! Quite a few people scream. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, is advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Ron seems to be frozen in place. Then – "Riddikulus!" He bellows, and the spider's legs vanish. It rolls over and over, Lavender squeals and run out of its way and it comes to a halt at my feet. I raise my wand, as ready as I'll ever be, but suddenly everything goes black. A second later the light flicker back on and I'm completely alone in the room, no one in sight. I turn my head, look around, the Boggart is gone as well.
I frown. That can't be right, the creature can only take the form of what it believes to be our biggest fear, it cannot vanish people. This means my biggest fear must be what I'm witnessing right now. Being alone. Not giving myself time to think about it, I raise my wand again and shout, "Riddikulus!" Pointing at nothing in particular.
All of a sudden I hear the now familiar 'crack' sound and everyone is back and in front of me there is a crystal ball at my feet. I give it a little kick and it rolls over to Harry.
"Here!" shouts Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack! The ball flies up in the air and inflates to about twice the size it was before. It now looks more like a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin. He says "Riddikulus!" almost lazily.
Crack! "Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" Says Lupin, as the Boggart lands on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! Snape is back. This time Neville charges forward looking determined.
"Riddikulus!" he shouts, and we have a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart explods, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and is gone.
"Excellent!" Cries Professor Lupin, as the class brake into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see... five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart – ten for Neville because he did it twice – and five each to Hermione and Harry."
"But I didn't do anything," says Harry.
"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin says lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me... to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."
Talking excitedly, every one leaves the staff room.
"That was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" Says Ron excitedly, as we gather our things and start making our way out the classroom.
"He seems to be a very good teacher," says Hermione approvingly. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the Boggart –"
"What would it have been for you?" Says Ron, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"
"Maybe a detention slip from McGonagall?" I offer, snickering.
We are at the door when professor Lupin calls out, "Charlotte, a moment please."
I turn around, surprised. He looks at me as if he had known me for years. I nod. "I'll see you at the common room." I say to my friends.
They bid me goodbye and go on their way. I'm left alone with professor Lupin.
There is an awkward moment when neither of us say anything.
"You are a very smart girl, Charlotte." Lupin says.
This takes me by surprise, "Thank you?"
"Not everyone would have figured it out." He says, leaning against one of the tables.
"Figure what out?" I ask, frowning.
"Your Boggart. Not a lot of people can handle one, let alone one they did not expect."
"I did expect it."
"Did you know it was going to take the form of isolation?" He frowns.
"Oh... well, no, I was expecting something else but I knew it was in front of me..."
"And that's vary impressive." He nods.
"I guess..."
"If you don't mind me asking, what did you expect to see?"
"Oh. Er- Harry... you know..."
"You thought you were going to see your brother hurt."
Dead. I nod.
"I hope you two know that you're safe here."
"Are we?" I look up at him. "We haven't been safe here for the past two years. Harry's constantly getting himself in some seriously dangerous situations."
"Well, yes but—"
"And now, apparently, there is a mass murderer on the loose, looking for him."
"Sirius Black?" He asks, frowning deeply. "I-I don't believe he is after you."
"Not me, Harry. No one is after me, it's Harry who's always in trouble." I would have been less worried if it was me who was in danger.
"You, Charlotte, should be very careful." He says slowly. "You are one of the two people who survived that night. Harry wasn't the only one in that house... if you-know-who is after Harry then you are on his radar as well."
"Is that all you wanted to talk about, professor?" I ask him, choosing to change the subject off of me.
He looks conflicted. He doesn't know what to answer, so I ask what I've been dying to know about him from the moment I saw him.
"You look so familiar. We've met before, haven't we?"
His brows fly to the sealing, "W-we met on the train. Don't you remember?" He asks with a hint of a smile.
"I- no, I mean before that. When I saw you on the train you looked so familiar but I couldn't place it." I say. "The only explanation I could've come up with is that you were a friend of my parents. But how can I remember you? I was only an infant..."
"I was a friend of your parents." He nods slowly. "And I did know you when you were a baby. Though, I don't know how you could possibly remember me."
"But you knew my parents. You were their friend." I say, looking him in the eyes. He nods again. "You could tell me about them." I finish in a voice so small I can barely hear myself.
"I would love to." He says.
And just like that, I am filled with hope and feelings I can't quite place yet.