Boggarts
Harry
Harry's first Dueling lesson was on Thursday and all the fifth-years from all four houses had it together.
Sirius was already waiting in the auditorium-like classroom for them. It was quite big, seeing as Dueling was a mandatory subject, unlike Warding and Spell-Crafting. Harry had, of course, taken it, and so had Jéricho. Cedric had taken up neither, while Adrian and Sera had opted for Warding and Spell-Crafting respectively.
"Welcome, all of you," Sirius clapped his hands together and grinned. "To your first Dueling Lesson. Now, who can tell me what exactly is Dueling?"
Adrian raised his hand. "It's a formal technique of combat between wizards and witches, using wands."
"Five points to Slytherin," Sirius nodded. "Anything else to add, anyone?"
Yaxley said, "It consists of defensive and offensive forms."
Sirius nodded again. "Two more points to Slytherin. How many of you know how to duel properly? Formally?"
All the Prowlers raised their hands in unison, and so did all the Slytherins, along with most Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Harry could see that the least Hufflepuffs properly knew how to due.
Sirius hummed, as if he'd expected it. "Good. For the ones who don't know how to duel properly, do you want to see a formal duel once, or try first?"
Almost everyone wanted the former, and as if on cue, James entered the room. "See? Told ya you'd need me, mate."
Sirius rolled his eyes as he and James climbed on the podium and faced against each other. Then he proceeded to create a protective bubble, just in case. "First, you bow."
While James gave a short and to-the-point bow, Sirius gracefully bent down (not too low, but carefully vigilant and elegant at the same time). After straightening up, James said, "Mind, if it's a life-or-death battle, the duel won't be formal, and you won't be bowing."
"Or you'll be dead in seconds." Sirius agreed.
Their duel was fantastic. A blur of flying colors, and while they could see that due to familiarity between the two best friends, it wasn't really in either's favor. In fact, it went on straight for fifteen minutes with neither of them close to winning or losing. Both were almost equally energetic and fit.
Finally, it came down to luck. Sirius was disarmed, but not because he was less skilled. James just happened to have got a lucky shot. They were both panting and James tossed Sirius his wand, and after a moment of catching their breaths, James said, "As you can see, it's not just mere skill or the number of spells in one's arsenal that wins a round. To an extent, it's luck, too."
"Now," Sirius said, all business, "you can pair up and start dueling. Oh, and don't pair with close friends that you know everything about if you can avoid it."
Guess we should split up. Harry said to his friends telepathically and heard back a chorus of agreement. He'd gotten better with it, but having four other people able to speak in your head was still a bit strange. Sera was the most comfortable it till now, but Jéricho didn't seem to like telepathy much.
Sera paired with Angelina, and Adrian paired with Cassius. Cedric was with Yaxley, and Montague was with Jéricho. The twins, for maybe the first time, weren't paired together, but with two other Hufflepuffs. Harry ended up with Alicia.
When Harry had won three matches in a row, Alicia suggested a break and asked, "How're you so good?!"
Harry grinned at her. "Practice, Cia. Besides, you're not bad yourself. What d'you say about friendly dueling sessions every Tuesday sometime after our classes? Same room; I can ask Sirius for permission."
Alicia nodded gratefully. "That's a brilliant idea."
After the class had ended, Harry stayed back. He walked over to Sirius and James and said, "You two can't stay apart, can you?"
"Nope," they both promptly announced.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Good show, by the way. You gonna help in every class, dad?"
James just snorted. "Of course not. I'm here on Auror duty, remember? I'll just be helping Padfoot in his first classes if he needs to do a demonstration duel. Oh, did you have a chance of talking to Effie?"
Harry hummed. "Just once. She's getting popular quickly. A big friends group already, and all have boisterous personalities. Astoria, Clary Dew of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw Gary Ives, and Demelza Robbins and Isaac Hebra of Gryffindor..."
"You stalking your sister, Harry?" Sirius grinned toothily with a glint in his eyes.
Harry pinked at the cheeks and gaped at his godfather. "Wha-? That's offensive!"
He pouted moodily as Sirius and James burst into full-blown laughter.
Lyra
Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. Lyra rolled her eyes as she saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.
Lyra scowled; Snape wouldn't have said "settle down" if she - or any Gryffindor - and walked in late. He'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; while Snape was head of Slytherin House and generality favored his students above all others, he hated Lyra for who she was and only really respected her talent in Potions.
They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Lyra and Blaise, in such a position that he he was preparing his ingredients on the same table as Charles and Ronald.
"Sir," Malfoy called, "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. Ronald went brick red and hissed, "There's nothing wrong with your arm."
Malfoy smirked across the table. "Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."
Lyra had to hide a rueful smile. Whatever else you may say, Malfoy knew how to use things to his advantage in different situations. Ronald seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly so that they were all different sizes.
"Professor," Blaise drawled, grinning a bit at Mafoy, deciding to join in the fun a bit. They all hated Ronald, so Lyra didn't really have any objections. "Weasley's mutilating Draco's roots, sir."
Malfoy looked faintly surprised at the help coming from Blaise and Lyra; he had clearly expected them to try and stand up for the Gryffindors. But after Lyra's fallout with Charles, they really had no reason to. Why not support their housemate instead?
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, and then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair. "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley. Thank you for informing me of the situation, Mr. Zabini."
"But, sir-!" Ronald had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his roots into exactly equal pieces. Lyra almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again, staring at Lyra and Blaise in loathing.
"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy added, his voice full of malicious laughter.
"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," Snape said, giving Charles the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.
Charles took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Charles skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. He seemed red in the face, and was avoiding eye contact with Lyra.
Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever. "Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.
"None of your business," said Ron jerkily, without looking up.
"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury -"
"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.
"- 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 gave a huge, fake sigh - "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"
"So that's why you're putting it on," Charles said, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger. "To try to get Hagrid fired."
"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."
Lyra scoffed and rolled her eyes. "There's no need for Hagrid to be fired, Draco," she said, "At least not from his game-keeper duties..."
Charles, now, openly gaped at her, along with Ron. She was Hagrid's friend too, so she knew she should be supporting him. But she figured that this was for the best. He was a good man, but an incompetent teacher. He hadn't even finished school, for Merlin's sake! She didn't want him to be gone completely; just fired from his teaching spot.
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 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," Hermione said, "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.
"Hey, guys," said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Charles' brass scales, "have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning - they reckon Regulus Black's been sighted."
"Where?" Charles and Lyra 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 hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."
"Not too far from here... " Ron repeated.
Charles
Near the end of the lesson, 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."
Some watched fearfully, while the others looked excited. 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."
Charles, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Charles was still reeling from Lyra's betrayal of not only him but also of Hagrid who she called a friend, while Ron was seething about Snape.
"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"
Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around. "Where is she?"
Charles turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall for lunch.
"She was right behind us," said Ron, frowning.
"There she is," Charles said.
Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, and the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.
"How did you do that?" said Ron.
"What?" asked Hermione, joining them.
"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."
"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh - I had to go back for something. Oh no -"
A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Charles wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.
"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.
"You know how many subjects I'm taking," said Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"
"But -" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."
"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.
"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked Charles.
Remus 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. Remus smiled vaguely and placed his briefcase on the teacher's desk.
"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. Charles grinned happily. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose.
"Right then," Remus said when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."
Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Remus 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 Remus 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. Of course, he wouldn't do that to the Marauders. Everyone looked quickly at Remus 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 into his brooms."
Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. Charles hid a smirk; Remus was the silent type to poison one's tea and smile pleasantly while he disposed of the body. As expected, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.
Remus 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!" Dean exclaimed in amazement.
"Thank you, Dean," Remus said, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"
They set off again, the class looking at Remus with increased respect. Charles felt immensely proud; he'd been teaching as a profession for years, giving private tutoring. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.
"Inside, please," Remus opened it and stood 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 Remus 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. At the doorway, he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."
Neville went scarlet. Charles glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers. Remus raised his eyebrows. "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 went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.
"Now, then," Remus beckoned the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Remus went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.
"Nothing to worry about," Remus said 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. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.
"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Remus explained. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks - I've even 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?"
Hermione put up her hand. "It's a shape-shifter. It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."
"Couldn't have put it better myself," Remus praised, and Hermione glowed. "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," Remus continued, choosing to ignore Neville's 'mall sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Charles?"
Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Charles knew the answer. "Because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be."
"Precisely," Remus said, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. "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."
Remus cleared his throat. "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.
"Good," said Remus. "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 shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.
"Right, Neville," Remus said. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"
Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.
"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," Remus said cheerfully.
Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Remus, however, looked thoughtful. "Professor Snape... hmmm... Neville, I believe you, along with your parents, live with your grandmother too?"
"Er - yes," said Neville nervously. "But - I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."
Charles shuddered; Augusta Longbottom was a scarily strict and intimidating woman, and even he wouldn't want her to appear in the classroom.
"No, no, you misunderstand me," Remus said, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"
Neville looked startled, but said, "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?" Remus prompted.
"A big red one," Neville agreed.
Remus nodded. "Right then. Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"
"Yes," said Neville uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next.
"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Remus. "And you will raise your wand - thus - and cry 'Riddikulus' - and concentrate hard on Augusta's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."
There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.
"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," Remus continued. "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. Charles thought... 'What scared him most in the world?'
His first thought was Lord Voldemort - a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a boggart Voldemort, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind...
A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak... a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth... then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning...
Charles shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off." Charles was sure he knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear was spiders.
"Everyone ready?" Remus asked.
Charles felt a lurch of fear. He wasn't ready. How could you make a dementor less frightening? But he didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.
"Neville, 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 Neville can get a clear shot..."
They all retreated, backed 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," Remus said, 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 Remus' wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville, who backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.
"R -- r -- riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.
There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.
There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Remus shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"
Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising -
Parvati cried, "Riddikulus!"
A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.
"Seamus!" roared Remus. Seamus darted past Parvati.
Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face - a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Charles' head stand on end.
Seamus shouted, "Riddikulus!"
The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. 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!" Remus shouted. "We're getting there! Dean!"
Dean hurried forward. Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab. "Riddikulus!" yelled Dean. There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.
"Excellent! Ron, you next!"
Ron leapt forward. Crack!
Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Charles thought Ron had frozen. Then -
"Riddikulus!" Ron bellowed, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Charles' feet. He raised his wand, ready, but -
"Here!" Remus shouted suddenly, hurrying forward.
Crack! The legless spider 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 Remus, who said, "Riddikulus!" almost lazily.
Crack!
"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Remus as the boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.
"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.
"Excellent!" cried Remus as the class broke 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 Charles."
"But I didn't do anything," Charles countered, pouting a bit.
"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Charles," Remus said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me... to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."
Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Charles, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Remus had deliberately stopped him from tackling the boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Charles collapse on the train, and thought he wasn't up to much? Had he thought Charles would pass out again?
But no one else seemed to have noticed anything.
"Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus. "And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.
"And Snape in that hat!" "And my mummy!"
"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" Lavender mused thoughtfully. Charles knew exactly why, but he remained quiet.
"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" Ron asked excitedly as they made their way back to the classroom to get their bags.
"He seems like a very good teacher," said Hermione approvingly. "But I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart-"
"What would it have been for you?" Ron sniggered. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"