The Prisoner Of Azkaban - Hermione Granger x OC

Boggart

It was time for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Oliver stood among his classmates, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Professor Lupin. However, he couldn't help but notice the absence of Hermione.

"Where's Hermione? Wasn't she just with us, like, five seconds ago?" Oliver whispered to Ron, his voice filled with concern.

Ron simply shrugged his shoulders in response, equally puzzled by Hermione's sudden disappearance.

Just as the anticipation grew, a closet positioned at the front of the room jolted as if something forcefully struck its doors from within. Oliver's heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by the unexpected movement.

"Ah, yes. Could anyone enlighten me as to the origin of that peculiar disturbance?" Lupin inquired.

A voice suddenly emanated from right next to Oliver, causing him to startle.

"That's a boggart, sir," Hermione stated confidently.

Oliver turned towards her, his face etched with astonishment and relief at her unexpected presence.

"When did you get here?" he inquired.

"Very astute, Miss Granger. Now, can anyone enlighten us on the appearance of a boggart?" Lupin queried, his gaze shifting among the students.

"No one knows. Boggarts are shape-shifters, assuming the form of whatever their victim fears most, which is precisely what makes them so-" Hermione began, her voice trailing off as Lupin interjected.

"So terrifying, indeed. Thank you once again, Miss Granger," Lupin acknowledged appreciatively.

Lupin stepped forward, positioning himself just inches away from the closet, capturing the undivided attention of the entire class.

"Luckily, there is a spell that can repel a boggart. Let's practice it now, without wands, please," Lupin announced. "Repeat after me. Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" echoed throughout the class as they followed Lupin's lead.

"Ensure you enunciate clearly. Riddikulus!" Lupin emphasized.

"Riddikulus!" the class repeated once more, determined to master the incantation.

"Now, here comes the challenging part. Unfortunately, boggarts won't be vanquished so easily. You must coax them into assuming a shape that genuinely tickles your funny bone. Neville, would you kindly step up here?" Lupin requested, gesturing towards Neville.

Neville reluctantly made his way to the front of the class, his steps hesitant and his expression filled with trepidation.

"Now, what frightens you most?" Lupin gently inquired, his voice laced with empathy.

Neville responded, but his words came out as a mere whisper, barely audible within the classroom.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Lupin requested, leaning closer to Neville in an encouraging manner.

"Professor Snape," Neville finally summoned the courage to say, his voice gaining strength.

The entire class erupted into laughter, their amusement echoing throughout the room.

"Ah, yes, I don't blame you one bit, dear boy," Lupin joined in the laughter.

"Now, when I open this door, I want you to envision Professor Snape donning your grandma's attire. Ready?" Lupin instructed.

"1... 2... 3..." Lupin counted down, building anticipation within the classroom.

As the door of the closet swung open, a figure resembling Snape emerged, slowly advancing towards Neville.

"Riddikulus!" Neville exclaimed.

In an instant, the figure transformed, now clad in the clothing of an elderly grandmother. The class erupted in peals of laughter, their amusement echoing throughout the room.

"Well done, Neville," Lupin praised, offering him a pat on the back as a token of recognition for his success in repelling the boggart.

The students all formed a line to cast Riddikulus, and Ron eagerly volunteered to go first. As the figure transformed into a huge spider, Ron summoned his courage and exclaimed, "Riddikulus!" Instantly, the spider sprouted roller skates on all eight legs and began careening wildly, stumbling and tumbling to the amusement of the entire class. Lupin couldn't help but beam proudly at Ron's success.

Next, it was Oliver's turn to face his deepest fears. Uncertain of what terrified him the most, he found himself paralyzed with dread when the figure took the shape of a dementor. Oliver's body froze in terror as he locked eyes with the menacing creature, sensing its malevolent intent to harm him.

Just as the dementor prepared to strike, Lupin leaped forward, positioning himself between Oliver and the demonic entity. With a resounding cry of "Riddikulus!" Lupin cast the spell, and the formidable dementor transformed into a limp, deflated balloon. Overwhelmed by the sudden release of fear, Oliver collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

"Sorry about that. Class is dismissed," Lupin said before bending down next to Oliver. "Are you alright?"

Oliver, still gasping for air, struggled to regain his composure and stood up abruptly. Without a word, he stormed off, his mind consumed by the lingering horrors of the encounter.

"Oliver!" Hermione called out, concern etched on her face. However, Oliver disregarded her plea and continued walking, his footsteps resolute and purposeful.

Feeling overwhelmed, Oliver sought solace against the cool, comforting wall. He slumped down, his back pressed against the surface, desperately attempting to steady his racing heart and quell the rising panic. With each breath, he repeated a mantra, his voice trembling ,"It wasn't real. It wasn't real." The words echoed in the empty corridor, a fragile shield against the haunting memories that threatened to engulf him.

Suddenly, a hand gently touched Oliver's shoulder, causing him to jolt back in fear and tumble to the ground. Gasping for air, he quickly crawled away, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Woah, woah, it's just me," reassured Isabella, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Startled, Oliver scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and embarrassment. He tried to compose himself, but the residual panic still gripped him tightly.

"What's wrong?" Isabella asked softly, her voice carrying a gentle understanding.

"Nothing," Oliver replied curtly, his tone laced with frustration. He turned away, his steps quick and purposeful, as he once again stormed off, leaving Isabella standing alone, her worried gaze lingering on his retreating figure.