Riddikulus
On Thursday morning, Remus woke up tired and groggy. He had not slept well since his meeting with Dumbledore. Almost without realising, he had left this office with the copy of The Daily Prophet under his arm, and spent much of the last two evenings trying not to look at it. He had put it on the desk in his room, meaning to either finally read it or throw it away, but instead it had remained there, haunting him. Add it to the bloody list he thought.
His lessons, however, had continued to go well. He'd seen his sixth years again and they had all produced a very comprehensive 20 inches on the capture of kelpies and spent an enjoyable hour teaching each other their various techniques. His fourth years had been a little rowdy, but he had soon hooked them with a quiz in which they had to attempt various riddles a Sphinx might set. Today though, he had two sets of third years. Ravenclaw and Slytherin this morning, and then Hufflepuff and Gryffindor this afternoon.
After the glimpse he had caught on Monday evening, Remus had avoided looking for Harry. The conversation he had had with Dumbledore had unsettled him. He knew that Sirius' escape was in no way unrelated to Dumbledore's invitation to teach at the school. The fact that he hadn't been honest with Dumbledore about Sirius was beginning to gnaw at him. He knew he should tell him, but it would mean admitting to all the risks they had taken as children. And Harry was safe in the castle. Surely. The place was crawling with dementors. He also just... Couldn't. He had spent twelve years compartmentalising what had happened: those parts of his life and the months, years it had taken him to get back on his feet. He knew it was a contradiction: here he was back where it all started, at the epicentre of any relevant development, pretending it was nothing to do with him. Part of him really believed it wasn't - whatever had happened, whatever Sirius had been involved in, that proved that Remus had been nothing to him. That James had meant nothing. But at the same time, he didn't really believe it. Did he? It didn't make any sense. But maybe it did? Sirius was capable, he had shown that, capable and reckless. An image floated into his mind of a boy lying on a bed, arms raised, moving slowly through the air as he described something. He was smiling...
'Stop!'
Remus started, surprised by the urgency in his own voice. He pressed his palms into his eyes. Don't do this, he thought. Don't. It gets you nowhere.
He washed and dressed and passed the folded newspaper once more as he left the room. He didn't throw it away.
*
That afternoon, running a little late after a slight scuffle during some final lesson preparation, Remus entered his classroom to find the third years from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor sitting patiently at their desks.
'Good afternoon,’ he said. ‘Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands.’ He paused during the great shuffling of parchment and scraping of chairs that occurred and continued, ‘Right then, if you’d follow me.’
Remus led the group round a corner, one that moments earlier had been empty, to find Peeves, hanging upside down, shoving something into the keyhole of a cupboard door. As they approached he started to hum a familiar tune...
‘Loony loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin –'
Just like old times, Remus thought, remembering just in time he had an entire class waiting for his reaction. 'I’d take that out of the keyhole, if I were you, Peeves, Mr Filch won’t be able to get into his brooms.’
Peeves grinned at him and blew a loud wet raspberry, waggling his tongue.
Remus sighed. Ok, he thought, just be professional about it. Over his shoulder said to the class, 'This is a useful little spell. Please watch closely.’
He raised his wand, ‘Waddiwasi!’ and watched as the something (chewing gum?) shot out of the keyhole and straight up Peeves’s nose. The little ghost swore loudly and zoomed away. Probably see you later, Remus thought, as they continued down to the staff room.
Remus ushered the class into the room, coming in behind them to find Severus sitting in what seemed to be his usual chair. Remus rolled his eyes internally. He had notified the staff about using the room today and had been told it was fine. Snape was just here to show his distaste.
‘Leave it open, Lupin.' he sneered as he got to his feet. 'I’d rather not witness this.' He paused at the door 'Possibly no one’s warned you, 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.’
Remus looked across at the boy Snape had gestured towards. Longbottom. It was Alice he was seeing, her round face, her nut brown eyes under dark brows, the way she had reddened when embarrassed. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He inhaled and looked back at Snape.
'I actually was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,’ he said, ‘and I am sure he will perform it admirably.’
Snape left then, and Remus had paused, just for a second before turning back to the class. Harry and Neville. Lily and Alice. James and Frank. Later. He thought. Think about it later.
'Now then,' he said, beckoning the group towards the old wardrobe at the other end of the large room. It was wobbling slightly against the wall. The boggart had not been pleased to find itself back in here after the lesson this morning. 'Nothing to worry about - it's just a boggart.'
Several of the class looked back at him apprehensively.
'Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,’ he continued. ‘Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. I found this one last week and thought I would save it for you. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?’
Harry's friend put up her hand, 'Granger', Snape had said.
'Yes, Hermione', said Remus, finding her name on the register and nodding at her.
‘It’s a shape-shifter,’ she said. ‘It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.’
Remus was impressed. ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ he went on, ‘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 fears most.
‘This means that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin.' he looked around the room. Harry suddenly had a look of revelation on his face. 'Have you spotted it, Harry?’
‘Er – because there are so many of us, it won’t know what shape it should be?’
Yes! Remus thought. A funny feeling of pride for a moment. ‘Precisely,’ he said. ‘It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake – tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.
‘The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.
‘We will practise the charm without wands first. After me, please … riddikulus!’
‘Riddikulus!’ the class chorused.
‘Good,’ he said, nodding. ‘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.’
Remus motioned for him to step forward. ‘Right, Neville, first things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?’
The boy was trembling slightly and he mouthed something that Remus couldn't hear. What on earth could it be, he thought. He was suddenly nervous it might be something horrific. Remus moved closer, wondering if he should give him a reprieve when Neville whispered:
‘Professor Snape.’
Nearly everyone in the class laughed. That bastard, Remus thought. What had Neville ever done to him? He paused for a moment. As far as he could remember, Alice's baby had gone to Augusta...
‘Professor Snape … hmmm...' Remus mused, 'Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?’
‘Er – yes,’ said Neville nervously. ‘But – I don’t want the boggart to turn into her, either.’ Ha! Remus thought. Couldn't blame him for that.
‘No, no, you misunderstand me,’ he said, smiling, ‘I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?’
Neville looked at him, confused, 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.’
Remus remembered the hat.
‘And a handbag?’ he prompted.
'A big red one,’ said Neville.
‘Right then.' he said 'I want you to picture those clothes. Imagine them as clearly as you can. Can you see them in your mind’s eye?’
‘Yes,’ said Neville. His voice was uncertain but his wand was steady. He's braver than he thinks, Remus thought to himself.
‘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 and shout ‘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.’
The rest of the class were laughing now, Neville was almost smiling, despite his nervousness. The wardrobe was wobbling violently, the excitement in the room was palpable.
Remus could feel a buzz running through him, it was a feeling he remembered: the anticipation of a great joke. 'If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to turn his attention to each of us in turn. 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, the class stood, wands ready, faces still with concentration. Neville had stepped square in front of the wardrobe, eyes fixed on the door, weight spread.
‘Everyone ready?’ Remus stepped behind Neville, gesturing for the rest of the class to take several steps back. Neville had rolled up his sleeves.
'On the count of three... ' Remus pointed his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe, 'One – two – three – now!’
The wardrobe creaked open and the tip of a polished shoe appeared, followed by the rest of Professor Snape. He was his most menacing, eyes narrowed at Neville, sneer on his face, he took a step forwards and Neville took a step back.
Just for a second, Remus doubted him. His stomach dropped, the way it had used to when they had all got carried away and realised slightly too late not everyone was in on the joke. He moved to intervene...
‘R-r-riddikulus!’ Neville shouted, perhaps an octave higher than usual.
There was a noise like a whip-crack. The boggart-Snape stumbled. In spite of himself, Remus snorted and tried unsuccessfully to turn it into a cough. There was a roar of laughter as the class took in the sight of their potions professor in a long lace-trimmed dress and vulture-topped hat. Across the room, Harry was grinning. Remus thought he saw him mouthing the word 'handbag' at Ron. Merlin, he thought, James would have flipping loved this.
Remus cleared his voice and shouted the next student forward and soon the class was working to a rhythm: a bloodstained mummy tripping over its bandages, a banshee with a sore throat, a giant spider, legless and rolling on its round body. Suddenly it was Harry's turn and as he stepped forward, Remus realised in horror his mistake.
'Here!' Remus shouted, sliding in front of him. There was a crack and just for a second, that blasted silver orb hovered in front of him. He didn't even look at before uttering the spell and shouted to Neville. 'Finish him off!'
This time Neville didn't hesitate. ‘Riddikulus!’ he shouted, and there again, just for a few more seconds stood Snape in his lacy dress.
The class, already high with excitement, exploded with laughter. The boggart distorted, this way and that and burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.
There was a sudden applause, Seamus and Dean both whooping and hugging Neville who was still laughing with relief. Remus could help himself, he beamed back at them all. ‘Excellent!’ he cried, that was 'Excellent.' Fantastic even, he thought to himself.
He dismissed them with a handful of house points and some light homework, and used his wand to direct the wardrobe back against the wall and tidy up the various items that had been scattered in the excitement of the lesson. He was a few minutes behind the class who had gone back to collect their things from the classroom, and as he arrived at his door, he could hear snippets of fervent conversation as they hurried away to their next lesson. He felt briefly guilty about sending such an overexcited class off to History of Magic, but, he reasoned, Professor Binns was unlikely to notice.
Remus passed through his classroom, to the little door that led to his rooms. There was a pile of marking on his desk to do, and he took his morning mug from beside it over to the little kitchenette, tapping the kettle with his wand and opening a cupboard for a tea bag. He leaned back against the counter as he listened to the kettle begin to boil, and closed his eyes. He thought of Harry's face watching the boggart. It was James' face. Grinning, triumphant. Bubbling with laughter. Catching the eyes of his friends. What a stupid mistake though, he thought, opening his eyes. Almost letting him take his turn. Remus imagined the aftermath of the lesson could have been very different indeed if he'd allowed Voldemort to appear in the middle of the Hogwarts staff room.
The kettle began to whistle and he made his tea.