Boggart, Dementor and Werewolf
"Good break?"
Neville's question brought the faux smile back to Steph's lips, one she had been wearing for weeks at this point. Ever since her conversation with her parents back in July, Steph had been wearing that same façade on her face - hiding the conflict of emotions in favour of simply nodding along and pretending that she had bought into the lies she had been fed.
"It was alright." The lie came easily, but it seemed to satisfy Neville's questioning as they walked along the platform. They were there earlier than most, with barely anyone present on the platform besides themselves and a few younger students, and they had left their guardians behind in due course - her Dad was talking animatedly with an elder lady wearing a vulture hat, who could only have been Regent Longbottom, about something to do with Wizengamot voting. She had caught very little of their discussion, only the mention of the phrase 'pink troglodyte', upon which Steph had tuned out the conversation.
Mother hadn't showed - she had business back in Scandinavia, and had departed the day before with little fanfare. Steph hadn't given it much thought, but the choice was.. Well, as difficult as it was to actively think - fine. She didn't care, in all honesty. She was turning fourteen this year, she could make her own decisions.
Even though it felt like a little bit of her died inside when she considered that.
"What about your break, Nev?" Shifting topics and allowing her lips to pull a little wider, Steph briefly gave the boy a once over. He seemed to already be wearing part of his uniform - the white shirt and black pants of the school uniform creating a smart casual look, whilst not looking like he was just wearing the school uniform. He had cleaned up nicely, she absently noted - the receding baby fat told her that Neville would honestly be quite good looking in a few years’ time.
He's not so bad right now, really.
She was grateful, suddenly, that she had already spoken, because the abrupt lurch of surprise almost gave her mental whiplash - let alone verbal. She probably would have choked on her words; had she been speaking.
Suddenly, she felt somewhat underdressed. A casual button up under a brown leather jacket was accompanied by jeans and her beloved chunky boots, giving her - as she was suddenly quite aware - a very Muggle look for someone of her standing. Neville could get away with it - he was an Heir, not an Heiress.
Mercifully, Neville seemed to miss her reaction - both the startled realisation and her brief crisis of fashion, caught in the middle a hum as he looked off into the middle distance in thought. It gave her just enough time to school her reaction, and to straighten her top just a little bit, before Neville looked back and responded. "Not bad, honestly. Gran got me some Gillyweed to try growing - it took almost two weeks to get it right. Doesn't much like to grow in colder waters."
Steph gave a small, yet audibly pleased, hum, something that Neville seemed to appreciate enough to mimic in kind. "Well, if anyone here was going to get it to grow, it would be you."
"So anyway, Steph. What did you take? Care is a given, but what else?" Steph gave a soft exhale of amusement, then pursed her lips - in hindsight, her coursework could be a bit much. Somewhat abruptly, she came to a stop next to one of the arched pillars of the station, right in front of the closed door to one of the compartments.
"Good to see you know me so well, Nev." Her tone a little teasing, she was pleased to watch as the Longbottom heir flushed a light shade of pink, her smile growing just a little wider before she answered. "Care, obvious. I also took Runes and Arithmancy."
"Right - almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw for a second." Now it was Neville's turn to tease her, and Steph could feel the flush dance across her cheeks, something she distracted him from by giving Neville a playful shove.
"Shut up - gods." Clearing her throat, she flicked her gaze up and down the platform - finding her Dad still in conversation with Augusta Longbottom, and no other student near them. Regardless, she leant a little closer to Neville and dropped her voice. "You hear about Pettigrew?"
A stormy look came over Neville's face, and Steph didn't miss how the boy seemed to tense at the mention of the name, his face contorting into a well-managed mask of pure fury. She would have taken a step backwards - had her back not been flush against the brickwork - and instead she tried to play off her brief surprise as simply leaning against the pillar, not that anyone really would have bought it.
"Gran reckons he was the one who gave away my parent's location. Like the Potters." Steph's lips quirked downwards out of the grimace, into a full-on frown. It would have been rather tactless to point out how foolish it was to have someone knowing both the families in hiding, but she wasn't that socially inept.
"I'm worried about Harry." Neville glanced sidelong at Steph, fury still on his face, but now tempered and more under control than it had been before. His response was almost confused - and Steph couldn't fault him for it, it had taken her a little bit to see the potential problem.
"Why? He's going to be at Hogwarts - and even if he's not got a teacher nearby, Daphne sticks close at all times." Steph grimaced, ducking her head, and sweeping the platform once again - it wouldn't do to ruin her tenuous friendship with the Slytherin girl.
"It’s Daphne I'm worried about. Harry's got a level head but.. Daphne's a Slytherin." Neville's frown remained on his face, and Steph let the sigh slip through her lips. "Daphne's idea of risk mitigation is not to keep Harry from Pettigrew - it’s to go hunting Pettigrew so he can't hurt Harry."
"Perhaps I can be of help, in that case." The tired voice of a man damn near well scared Steph out of her fucking skin - and it made Neville jump too, but the boy had a far better reaction immediately after. With audible relief in his voice, yet confusion, he greeted the man standing to Steph's right, opposite Neville.
"Remus! What are you doing here?"
The man was almost unkempt, with a well-worn beige suit and leather bag being all he openly had on his person. Absently, she noted the man really could do with a shave - she could see his stubble visibly, but her eyes were more drawn to the two scars that cut across his face, the wounds still a shade of red even despite what had to have been years. His tired expression pulled into a small smile. "Well - Neville, I suppose I should ask you to take a guess."
Those scars look old..
"He's the Defence teacher, Nev. Has to be - unless Snape's dropped dead, or Binns has been exorcised finally." The man named Remus gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head in amusement.
"No - I'm afraid Severus hasn't passed on, and Professor Binns hasn't been forced to pass on." Straightening up a little bit, Steph didn't miss how his eyes flicked up the platform a moment before a soft snap of flames heralded the arrival of someone coming through the Floo. A lump formed in her throat as suddenly the situation became a lot more uncomfortable to her as he glanced down at her with a kind smile that felt much like a wolf in sheep's clothing - pardon the pun. "I'm Remus Lupin - your new Defence Professor."
Lupin - fucking hell, of course that's his name.
Cursed scars, superhuman reflexes, the name fuckin Lupin - quite literally the Latin for Wolf. She really didn't want to assume, but when there was an almost comical number of coincidences, she really had to be certain. Surely, this man couldn't seriously be...
Unable to help herself, Steph took a single sniff - and immediately felt her nostrils flare and burn at the almost acrid odour of Aconite. Her mind snapped to her first Potions lesson, and the dour noise of the Potions Master's drawl.
As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite.
Werewolf.
Steph, unable to stop herself from reacting purely instinctually, stumbled to the left, flicking her wrist to launch her wand into her right hand - only to cock it up and go stumbling straight into what felt like a wall that hadn't been there a moment before. But that wall was wearing a suit, was warm blooded and gave a cry of startled alarm as she went careening into it and nearly fell flat on her ass - held up only by the firm grip of the man she had stumbled into.
"Easy Stephanie - it's ok." The firm voice of Sirius Black seemed to dance with mirth as he spoke to her, and a quick glance up at his face revealed dark eyes sparkling with mirth. Gently straightening her up, he patted her on the shoulder twice, before letting her go and greeting the Werewolf with a clap on the shoulder. "Remus - I see you've beaten me here again."
"Well, Sirius. After seven years of Hogwarts, I saw no reason to break the tradition." Steph could only stare at the scene and weakly croak out her remark despite herself.
".. Werewolf.."
Remus Lupin seemed to freeze like he had been caught in the spotlight, and Sirius gave a long-suffering sigh. The Head Auror pinched the brow of his nose and shook his head for a second, before going grumbling under his breath and taking a second to choose his words, then raising his head to look at Steph. "Well, that didn't take long... Yes - both myself and Dumbledore are aware. However, Remus went through Hogwarts without incident and takes precautions to ensure no one is at risk during his transformations - he takes Wolfsbane potion."
Steph stared at Sirius for a moment, then at Remus Lupin - who was still frozen in place. True to Sirius' description, the man certainly didn't look like he was the Fenrir Greyback of the future - he was probably one of the victims of the Werewolf, either directly or indirectly. Hell - Remus looked almost like he wanted to run and not look back.
Not to mention Wolfsbane potion directly countered the worst of the effects of Lycanthropy - it should have kept him sane, even if he was transformed.
A lone thought crashed through her head. Am I being prejudiced? It didn't feel like it - Werewolves were some of the most dangerous creatures in the world to come across by virtue of them being able to hide as Humans or Wixen for the most part, only to reveal themselves on the full moon.
But then again, they weren't nearly as dangerous as, say, a Basilisk, and Steph honestly lamented the death of Meretseger in some capacity. She was a beautiful creature, even if she was under the control of fucking You-Know-Who - as Harry had told her.
... Oh dear gods I stood before the Dark Lord
Well.. 'stood' is a strong word. More like begged for my life on my knees.
Summoning her willpower - and trusting that the Head Auror wasn't full of shit, which she frankly hoped regardless, Steph raised her wand, before flicking her fingers downwards, holstering it in full view of all in question. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sirius turned to face Remus. "Remus, meet Stephanie Scamander. I think you can see why she, of all people, clocked on so fast."
With added stress on her surname, Lupin seemed to relax somewhat, releasing what seemed to be his first breath in nearly a minute after she had croaked that word. His voice was a little strained, but he put on a welcoming face - or what was probably welcoming given his weary and stressed expression. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Scamander. I should be off, however, Sirius. I still have work to do on my class plan."
And before the Head Auror could respond, the scruffy looking Werewolf ducked away, and Sirius Black sighed in frustration, his hand going to his forehead as his thumb and index fingers pinched his temples. The audible frustration was enough to make Steph wish to practically fold in upon herself out of shame - it wasn't really her fault, it’s not every day that you stand in front of a fucking Werewolf.
"Just... Give him some time, Steph. Remus isn't the sort of person to talk about his condition." Turning to face Steph, Sirius Black cast a firm look down at her that felt just as withering as the one that Daphne could cast. "Regardless, Remus is a very old friend of mine, and it would be most appreciated if you didn't go running your mouth about his condition. I would recommend you get on the train."
With a flick of his wand, the doors to the train carriage snapped open, and Sirius Black straightened up, turned on his heel, and walked away from Steph, leaving the girl swallowing her discomfort on the platform, barely aware of her surroundings.
Not the best introduction to a teacher...
The first sign something was wrong was the train coming to a sudden and abrupt stop.
Astoria Greengrass started, jumping at the sudden movement that startled her from her doze - it had been quite an early morning for her, given that she had spent most of the night before reading a book that her parents (and probably Daphne, in all honesty) would most certainly have not approved of. Still - she was a teenager now, and if she wanted to read... More adult literature, she could.
Her sister was seated directly to her left, and had been in the middle of saying something - Astoria only caught the tail end of what it had been as Daphne's voice trailed off and her gaze drifted from the other occupants of the compartment to the window on the other side of Harry. "-shouldn't be of much... Concern.."
"Wuzzhapn?" The slightly incoherent comment came from Tracey, the brunette girl lifting her head from where it had been resting on Stephanie's shoulder, the raven-haired heiress herself seemingly jolted from her relaxation - rolling her neck and shoulders as she leant forwards.
"Train's stopped... Pretty sure that's not normal." Steph's voice was undercut with a tired tone, one that was quickly dispelled as the girl yawned behind her hand. "Daph?"
"No - it isn't." Her sister stood, weaving her way past the tangle of legs in the middle of the compartment and making her way to the door, poking her head into the passageway. Even as Daphne moved, Tracey yawned, pressing her head against the window, and mumbling her comment.
"S'mones getting onboard."
A shiver tore down Astoria's spine, and a shudder ripped through her, a noise of displeasure escaping her as she shook, sending brown locks over her face, which she quickly brushed aside. Something was just wrong about the situation - no one ever boarded the Hogwarts Express part way through the journey.
"Uh.. Guys?" Steph's voice was wrought with concern, and the girl audibly cleared her throat, before repeating herself with more urgency. "This is kinda important - Daphne..."
Her sister wheeled around, and Astoria followed her gaze, only to frown at the sight of a cobweb of white spreading across the window of the compartment - surely the rain wasn't that cold as to be forming frost. But when Astoria went to look at her sister and open her mouth, words failed her as Daphne's expression grew visibly concerned, before her gaze locked on Astoria.
"Story, swap places with Harry, now." Astoria went to complain - primarily at the nickname, and secondarily at the order, but she was interrupted by the whole train jolting violently. The sudden sensation sent a jab of agony right through her abdomen - momentarily bypassing the charm that the Medi-Witch at St Mungo's had placed there earlier that summer - and she tipped forwards, thrown clear from her seat and into Steph's lap.
To her credit, the ravenette caught her with some incredible reflexes, and before she could even give her thanks, Steph had given her a weak smile and gently pushed her into the seat that Harry had been sat in just a moment prior. Responding with one of her own, Astoria gently eased herself into the plush seat - grateful for the warmth given the sudden chill that spread through the air - and no longer in the mood to complain.
With a sharp snap - what sounded like every lightbulb on the train burnt out in a single instant.
"Daph, what going on?" Harry's voice accompanied the boy moving to stand, but just as fast as he stood, he was pushed back into his seat by Daphne, her expression strained. A flick of her wrist brought her wand to her hand and Astoria swallowed nervously.
"A Dementor boarded the train."
"A what." A hiss escaped Harry, and boy went for his own wand - indeed, there was a collective rooting for wands amongst the occupants of the cabin. Astoria blinked - her eyes widening as the same urge itched at her fingertips, but there would be little point to her doing so. She doubted she could even cast something so powerful, let alone fuel it with emotion.
"Just a theory. I would suppose they're looking for Pettigrew." Daphne's lips pulled into a line so thin that Astoria couldn't even see them - it reminded her of the expression her father had pulled after Daphne had been petrified last year. "But they're not kind creatures."
"Opportunists - allegedly." Steph's tone was audibly shaken, and the girl stood, placing herself between Daphne and the others. Whilst Astoria couldn't make out the expression on the ravenette's face, she could just about hear the hushed conversation between the two.
"You don't know the Patronus, do you?"
"No, I suppose that makes both of us."
"Shite.." Steph's soft bite of the curse was accompanied by another shake of the train, and Astoria clung to the windowsill and the small table for dear life, biting the inside of her cheeks to hide the soft moan of pain that would have otherwise slipped through her lips.
The chill was deep inside now - felt like it was coming from her bones. Her teeth chattered softly, and her arms folded, crossed over themselves as if she were hugging herself tightly, even in the jumper she was wearing. Her eyes flicked over to her sister, only to see the ominous dark shape looming outside the compartment through the entirely frosted glass.
"Pettigrew isn't here - be.. Be..go..."
Her sister's voice trailed off, growing wispy and faint. Deep and shuddery breaths filled the air as the heavy presence in the air grew more and more oppressive - weighing down on Astoria as memories of agonising pain ripped through her head. Phantom sensations of long passed episodes spread out from her abdomen, almost doubling her over as she hugged her gut tightly, desperately biting back cries of pain as tears and whimpers slipped from her.
A masculine gasp came from beside her as Harry bit back a wince - a sob of horror slipped from what had to be Neville across from her, a brief glance up showing him twisting his neck sharply and clutching his arms over his ears. Tracey was visibly in the glance too - scurrying up the seat and curling herself into the corner, horror and sheer, pure terror naked upon her features.
But the worst came as she flicked her gaze over to the door - and found the Dementor feeding on her sister, suspending Daphne from invisible strings as her knees buckled and her wand fell to the floor. Wisps of pale colour made it appear as if it were attempting to suck Daphne's face clean off her - and with some horror Astoria realised that this was what the fate worse than death was.
This was the Dementors Kiss.
"DEPULSO!"
With what sounded like the crack of a cannon, the sensation abruptly snapped away - and a heavy thump signalled Daphne falling bodily to the floor, her sister hacking and wheezing as she scrambled away from the creature, even as her saviour advanced.
It had been Steph - her voice barking a second spell as she stepped over Daphne as the Dementor was thrown back against the wall of the hallway. "Incendio!"
A flash of fire drew a screech from the creature, and Steph stepped forwards again, winding back her wand in preparation to deliver another spell, her lips parting even as a spectral wind filled the air and tore her raven locks from its ponytail, sending them billowing in the unseen breeze.
Yet Steph appeared to have forgotten the maxim of Dementors - they were invulnerable, and were only susceptible to the Patronus charm. It was thus, unsurprising, and yet no less horrible to see the Dementor demonstrating how little it thought of Steph's spells after just two had connected. With a surge, the creature rushed forwards, clutching her by the throat and slamming her against the door frame - one scabby and withered hand reaching up and drawing back its hood.
The sight Astoria barely saw - but the whole face was just absent. All she could make out was a revolting, looming and ominous maw from which came a slow and almost agonised death rattle as the creature bent low over Steph. The girl's struggles became muted and dull, and she almost seemed to go still, limply hanging from where she was pinned to the doorframe.
And then all at once - the sensation passed.
From the left side of the hall came a surge of silvery light, bounding down the hallway like a dog and slamming straight into the Dementor. An otherworldly and terrible screech escaped the creature, a noise that shook Astoria to her very bones, sending her body shivering as the silvery dog chased the creature away. In its wake, a warmth settled over her, even as Steph collapsed to the ground, her face deathly pale and her body laying limp and utterly silent upon the carpet of the compartment, and Astoria's eyes closed as her body succumbed to the overflow of sensations.
"Dementors! On the Hogwarts Express! Honestly Filius, I am at my wits end!"
The dour Potions Master silently listened on as the Matron of the Hospital Wing expressed her ire to their half-Goblin colleague, who himself seemed deeply troubled by the situation. The trio were currently making their way back to the Hospital Wing from the Headmasters Office, where Poppy had spent nearly twenty minutes giving the Minister of Magic more than a little piece of her mind.
He supposed that she would have said more, had there not been five students in the Hospital wing, and another waiting and watching over them in the absence of the Matron.
With a heavy sigh, the half-Goblin shook his head and frowned deeply.
"It is worrying that the Ministry has such little control over them. It's a pure miracle that only Ms Greengrass and Scamander were subject to an attack - a whole train and only one person capable of casting a Patronus." Filius sighed deeply, mumbling a curse in a language Severus didn't understand - which meant it was probably Gobbledegook. "At the very least, Mr Lupin was there to provide them with chocolate. It likely negated the worst of the aftereffects."
"Ha - A Defence Teacher worth his wand. Now there's a nice change!" The corner of Severus' lip curled just a little - of all the things to hear that day, praise of Lupin was one of the lowest items on his list. Could have been worse - much worse, Gods forbid it had been Black or Potter teaching.
As they reached the door, the Matron snapped her fingers, her pace not slowing as the doors to the wing swung open at her signal. Poppy's voice raised in volume as she spoke ahead of herself. "Miss Davis - has there been any change in our patients?"
The brown-haired girl gave a start that was audible even as far away as the triad of teachers was, and Severus watched as she ducked out from where she had been at the bedside of one of her friends. Tracey Davis had been the only one in the compartment to not either have a severe reaction to the Dementor's presence, or have been directly attacked by the creature. It had been her testimony that had given them the basics of just what had happened in the compartment before Lupin had arrived and chased the creature away.
Not that he would ever admit it, but Lupin's remark about the compartment looking like an opium den gone terribly wrong was mildly amusing.
But as he watched the girl tense as she laid eyes on him, Severus Snape was reminded of two things. One - Tracey Davis did not like him. Much like Longbottom, she was scared of him, but whilst the boy had enough of a backbone to not cower before him, having grown up with Augusta Longbottom and not having caved under the pressure of the legacy of his parents, Tracey Davis was an unknown.
As in Severus had never heard of her, or her family before she had appeared in his Common Room that September night two years ago.
Brief digging had told him that she was probably descended from the German Davis family - a family thought almost extinct after Grindelwald's war, but one with a respected legacy in Potioneering. But the girl displayed no special talent for the subject, simply coasting by on assistance from her more skilled friends - most frequently Greengrass, but occasionally Scamander.
Speaking of the two girls - Severus had to bite back a grumble of irritation. They had not only been the victims of the Basilisk at the end of the previous year, but had now attracted the ire of Dementors. It was frustrating in a fundamental way - that not only had one of his house seemingly adopted the characteristics and danger prone nature of a Gryffindor, but that she had seemingly roped the Scamander girl into the whole thing with her.
Not to mention she was galivanting around with Potter.
Whilst the boy looked concerningly like his father - enough for Severus to immediately dislike him - it was his nature that really stopped Severus from truly loathing the boy. His nature was everything good about Lilly - his clear care for his friends and his willingness to do good by them, regardless of the house lines. The fact that he had his Mother's eyes did nothing to diminish the fact.
It was frustrating then that the boy looked so much like Potter.
The curl on his lip grew more pronounced, and Davis seemed to shrink back as the Matron and Filius engaged her in conversation about the conditions of her various friends. In the meanwhile, Severus flicked his wand and summoned the medical charts from the ends of the various beds, flicking through each of them in turn.
Longbottom and Potter were unharmed in the long term, which was unsurprising as their symptoms were only minor exposure to the Dementors presence - likely they had been forced to relive their worst memories, which in both cases was an experience utterly undesirable. For a moment, Severus wondered if that meant that Harry remembered Lilly's death.
His grip on the clipboard grew just a little firmer.
Davis herself only had very minor exposure to the Dementor - and given that her past seemed relatively insulated and lacking any sort of horror, the girl had bounced back with only some chocolate thanks to Lupin.
The younger Greengrass girl too only had exposure to the Dementors, albeit it was paired with the malediction eating away at her, which had compounded the recent effects. Likely, the girl would have to be attended to by St Mungo's Medi-Witches at some point in the near future to ensure that the exposure had not intensified the effects of the malediction.
But the real concern came from the elder Greengrass and Scamander, both of whom were still unconscious, and according to the medical readouts, under a rather intense cocktail of potions to counteract the effects of a partial Dementors Kiss. None of those potions were especially fun to brew, let alone take, as he vividly remembered from the War.
The two girls were lucky that they hadn't had longer exposure to the Dementor - Azkaban inmates typically took months to recover.
Hell - they were lucky to have their Souls.
The Dark Mark on his forearm seemed to bite at his skin just a little more than usual - a worrying occurrence that he had brought up to Albus after Fudge had departed hastily. The Dark Mark was back - no longer just the faint whisper that it had been in previous years. Indeed, the night Albus had gone to the Chamber, the Dark Mark had briefly regained its full glory, before fading back to a black smudge.
But now it was pronounced - still faded and weak - but with clear definition to the coiling tattoo.
With a soft hum, Severus tapped his wand to the clipboards and sent them flying back to their respective beds - watching as Stephanie Scamander's readout went flying back to the bedside that Tracey had been at when he had entered the room.
Interesting.
"Now! Gather round class, yes that's it. No need to worry." With a soft clap, Professor Lupin brought his hands together, and Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes lazily as she regarded the man with an unimpressed look. This new Professor was hardly the most impressive, even after the whole Lockhart debacle. Even with that sicko locked up in Azkaban, Pansy couldn't believe that he had even been allowed to be on the school grounds.
Whoever had slipped him Veritaserum was a hero in her eyes.
"What... Is in there..." The words left the Mudblood's mouth, and Pansy felt her own sneer deepen as the raggedy Professor gave a small noise of amusement, as if his question was even genuine.
"An excellent question, Mr Thomas. Does anyone want to hazard a guess?"
The object in question was a small wardrobe, which shook and bounced violently, at risk of tipping over even as the Professor asked his question. Without skipping a beat, the foreign drawl of the scruffy Gryffindor Finnegan cut through the air like blasting hex through the intensive care ward at St Mungo's. "That's a Boggart, that is."
"Very good, Mr Finnegan. Now Boggarts have no form - they're shape shifters that assume whatever form is likely to frighten their target. Right now, that Boggart is sitting inside the wardrobe without a clear form. Can anyone tell me what advantage this gives us?"
This time Pansy did snort - did it really have to be explained? It was bad enough that this Professor was acting like this was NEWT level information - any well raised child could tell you that a bouncing wardrobe was home to a Boggart. Ignoring the exercise, she instead leant to her left - and careful to avoid Draco's bandaged arm in the process - and muttered her own comment over the insufferable Mudblood Granger's response.
"I'll bet his Boggart is a bath." Much to her satisfaction, Draco's lips quirked upwards into a sly grin, and he gave a small exhale of amusement. Crabbe and Goyle, the utter trolls, gave a snort each, and Pansy's satisfaction vanished, replaced by mild revulsion as her lip curled back into a sneer and her eyes rolled again, casting her gaze back to the wardrobe.
"Yes - very good Ms Granger. With so many of us, the Boggart is liable to become confused. It is always best to face a Boggart in a group - even the most capable witch or wizard can be overwhelmed by being confronted with their greatest fear head on." Lupin paused for a moment, scanning the crowd as if to see if everyone had absorbed the information, before clapping his hands and casting his gaze left and seemingly finding what he wanted. "Ah - Mister Longbottom. Perhaps you can help me with this exercise. Tell me, what do you think is the thing you fear most in the world?"
Pansy snorted herself this time, and she didn't miss how Lupin's eyebrow twitched at the noise - although she honestly didn't care. It was a stupid question, asking someone to just open up their soul to you like that - no self-respecting pureblood would do so, and she was proven right as Longbottom immediately went about being emblematic of the problems with the stupidly earnest Badgers. "... Bellatrix Lestrange."
There were more than a few sharp inhales from the gathered crowd, and Lupin seemed to come to a brief impasse himself, before his lips pulled tight and his voice grew somehow more tired - weathered, almost. "Can't say I'm particularly eager to face her again. Twice is plenty, and may none of you ever have to do so."
Try as she might, she couldn't help but feel a little bit more respect for their scruffy teacher. Even if he looked like he had turned and fled as soon as the witch made her presence known, it was still a notch in his belt to have survived Bellatrix Lestrange. Beside her, Draco made a grumbled noise of displeasure. "That's my Aunt you fool."
Draco hadn't noticed, but Pansy definitely did as Lupin's eyebrows twitched again, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up for a moment - had.. Lupin just heard Draco's comment? The man must have had some very, very good hearing to have managed to catch it, she'd give him that.
"Have you had the pleasure-" The word was stressed to decidedly imply that it was no such experience "-of meeting Undersecretary Umbridge?"
The heavy sigh from Longbottom told the entire room that he very much had, and Lupin's lips quirked up a little. "Try imagining Bellatrix in Madame Umbridge's outfit. Gather around into a semi-circle students. When I call your name, step forwards! Remember - the incantation is Riddikulus."
And with a wave of his wand, the door to the wardrobe burst open, leaving only the view into a yawning abyss within - and the noise of banging leaking out from the depths. The room seemed to catch its breath for a moment as nothing happened, leaving Neville staring right at the black hole into the wardrobe from which the noise emanated - the banging slowly transitioning into what Pansy knew to be the click of heels.
And then a pale arm slid out from the depths of the darkness, and the room seemed to grow uncomfortably tense as a pale leg soon followed - upon it a heeled shoe. The clicking was soon drowned out by the most unnerving giggle that Pansy had ever heard - one that would almost certainly haunt her dreams more than the thoughts of father on a drunken binge.
"Ickle wickle Neville? Come to avenge Mummy and Daddy?" Somehow topping the last giggle, this was a full-on cackle as the most feared witch in Britain slipped from the confines of the wardrobe with a manic look upon her face. What felt like the entire room seemed to surge backwards. Dressed in black that somehow hugged her figure, her cheekbones high and firm, Bellatrix Lestrange was as she had been the day before her trial - beautiful and young, but decidedly insane.
Pansy seemed unable to swallow - and beside her Draco didn't seem so full of bravado anymore.
Longbottom was the most interesting - his face a mask of pure hate. Pansy has seen all three Unforgivable Curses cast - had almost been the victim of one - but despite that, Longbottom's face was by far the most furious she had ever seen another person. His wand seemed to shake in his hand - not as if he were about to drop it, but as if he were itching to simply cast the Killing Curse upon the Boggart.
But suddenly his arm snapped up and levelled the wand at the Boggart - his voice a hate filled, trembling roar. "RIDDIKULUS!"
In a heartbeat, the Boggart recoiled as the black dress turned into the attire of that atrocious pink toad Umbridge - horribly contrasting Bellatrix Lestrange's dark and aristocratic features. Still, in Pansy's mind at least, this made her no less terrifying, just a little ridiculous. Lupin's cry was practically a bark. "Finnegan, next!"
The Irish boy ducked forwards, and Neville was pulled back by Potter - Pansy's gaze drifting to the Boggart as it reared back and coiled in upon itself for a second, before shifting into a creature that looked remarkably like Lestrange, although if she had been drowned and left to decay for a few days. Her features were gaunt and skeletal, and her eyes had rotted away - her hair was down to the floor-
Vaguely, Pansy noted Scamander clamping her hands over her ears, and the Slytherin heiress frowned as she watched the woman opened her mouth and drew a deep breath.
Fuck-
Barely had Pansy got her hands over her ears, before the Banshee SCREECHED loudly, and the class again surged backwards, cries of pain and displeasure filling the room as the Irish half-blood practically yelped his spell. "Riddikulus!"
With a soft pop, the Banshee recoiled, choking on something invisible as Lupin clapped his hands twice. "Greengrass, yours!"
The blonde girl stepped forwards, the Banshee rearing back and shifting forms for a moment, before suddenly a lump of ice appeared in the bottom of Pansy's stomach as the Banshee swiftly became the menacing figure of a Dementor. Rearing back as if to deliver the kiss, Greengrass didn't even give it the chance to complete the motion before the spell left her wand. "Riddikulus."
With a sharp snap akin to a spark catching, the Dementor was engulfed in flames, letting out a truly awful wail that returned Pansy's hands to her ears with an indignant cry of annoyance. Lupin was grimacing, but in that moment, he locked eyes with Pansy, and to her immense horror - he beckoned her forwards.
Fighting the swelling sensation in her gut, she pushed her way past Zabini and Nott and stepped forwards, watching as the Dementor wheeled about to face her - still burning from its cloak - before it coiled in upon itself and began to shift. A horrible thought came to mind - was it to be father? If so, he would surely hear of it from someone, and that would be almost apocalyptic. She would have to spend the break with someone - hopefully Millie would be accepting enough of her to take her in whilst he calmed down.
"Focus Pansy, Focus." Lupin's voice was a welcome stabilising force in the moment - it drew her from her fears and focused her on a single point. Not that she would ever admit that. Father was always worst when it came to his beliefs and politics. There was only one thing emblematic of that...
Her eyes opened as the Boggart finished shifting - and Pansy physically recoiled at the ethereal and terrible wail of the Dark Mark blazing to life in the middle of the classroom, the serpentine tone surging from the open jaw and darting for her. Fumbling for a moment, she found her wand and managed the spell, despite her stutter and panic. "R-Riddikulus!"
BANG! The Dark Mark was obliterated in that moment by a brilliant fireworks display, and Pansy took a few ragged breaths as she half stumbled away from the recoiling Boggart. But the looks on the faces of her fellow Slytherins told her that she had sympathy from most, but that regardless, this was going to get to more than just father.
There was uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, before Lupin found his voice, clearly rattled. "Tarn - come."
The dark haired Hufflepuff stepped forwards, and the Boggart began to coil back in upon itself, reforming and closing towards the girl - who Pansy saw was increasingly uncomfortable standing before the creature. Just as it seemed to be deciding on what to form - dark colours coming to the front yet intercut with a splash of blonde, the Hufflepuff seemed to lose her nerve. With a clearly nervous keen, Krey Tarn turned on her heel and dived back through the class.
Lupin blinked, and the Boggart seemed to stumble backwards - partially shifted into a blonde woman with a sneer on her half-formed face, but clearly overwhelmed and lacking a focus. The cry that Pansy had been expecting for ages came next. "Harry! Go!"
Potter stepped forwards, and the Boggart again reeled for a moment, before it coiled back in on itself. Pansy could see it taking on black colours once again, before it seemed to spit out the target legs first. A start came from the front rows - Pansy saw a mop of dark hair and what was a vaguely aristocratic looking boy clearly in his later years of schooling. Wearing the Slytherin uniform and a badge that she knew would read 'Head Boy', Pansy didn't really understand the Boggart, until it raised its wand, the tip glowing green, not that it ever got any words off - Potter was scarily quick on the draw with the spell. "Riddikulus!"
With a snap, the Boggart was blasted away, turned into a skeleton that fell backwards and split into a hundred pieces, bones disarticulating as they broke away. Lupin's frown was visible from where Pansy was, but his voice spoke loudly. "Steph, you!"
The Scamander Heiress took a step forwards, swapping places with Potter and stepping up to the Boggart. The bones reknitted themselves and quickly coiled back in on themselves, the Boggart reforming as Pansy finally clocked on to just what Potter's Boggart had been - and her stomach dropped out from within.
Green spell had to be the Killing Curse... Which... Made that Boggart...
Oh god...
The implication sat poorly with her - and Pansy found herself struggling to swallow her breath. That was the Dark Lord himself, or at least how Potter remembered him.
Seeking something, anything to shift her attention to, Pansy took in the sight of the Boggart's new form, and, for a moment, thought that it had once again assumed the form of Bellatrix Lestrange. The figure shared the pronounced and aristocratic cheekbones, the dark hair, and the pale complexion - it was tall, and dressed similarly to the notorious Witch, but the eyes were just wrong.
There was just something about it - perhaps it was that the eyes lacked Lestrange's vicious malice, but held instead callous indifference. The stance was not battle ready, but instead languid and relaxed, a wand held from both ends over its chest. The smile on its face was fake and spoke of superiority, not the insane grin that had split the features of the Boggart's Bellatrix Lestrange.
A glance at Scamander caused Pansy to catch herself and do a double take - glancing back at the Boggart, then back to the girl stood before it with a familiar wand in her hand. Another glance at the Boggart confirmed the suspicion - this Boggart wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange, it was Stephanie Scamander. Older, and more developed, but very clearly Stephanie, not Lestrange.
A brief glance at Scamander revealed that she was not taking the Boggart's new form well - her neck muscles strained, and knuckles clenched. Just as the girl levelled her wand at the Boggart, it opened its mouth.
And hissed.
In an instant, the hairs on the back of Pansy's neck shot up, and what seemed to be the entirety of the class jolted at the noise as Scamander's wand tip quivered visibly. Pansy had heard that before - she had heard it last year at the Duelling club, that was Parseltongue - and the implication there-in-lay...
Scamander confirmed it for them - a sharp bark leaving her. "Shut UP!"
With a slash of her wand, a silent spell leapt fort and slammed into the Boggart. Whatever it had been was purely kinetic, for with the force of what sounded like a cannon, the Boggart shot off its feet and was launched back into the dark recesses of the wooden wardrobe, slamming into the back wall, and sending the whole assembly careening over backwards. Landing with a heavy thump that rattled the entire room, the door slammed shut as the dust quite literally settled, leaving what felt like the whole class staring at Steph with a mix of horror and awe.
On one hand - silent casting at her age was impressive.
But it was decidedly overshadowed by the revelation that there was not one, but two Parselmouths in their grade.
Scamander was visibly drawing shaky breaths, her chest heaving and her arms shaking just a little as she seemed to sweep her gaze across the faces of her peers, and Pansy simply watched silently as the girl's expression grew more and more downtrodden and desperate. In turn, Pansy could only imagine their expressions - she didn't have to imagine the girl's thoughts - her reaction said it all, and in short order, she reached a breaking point.
With nary a word, Stephanie Scamander shoved her way through her peers and fled the room.