Chloe Cullen 3 - A Harry Potter and Twilight Crossover

Chapter 6: The Boggart

Malfoy comes back to class on Thursday, which is also the first day of our Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He's not in the room when we arrive, but we get out our equipment anyway. He comes in a few minutes later with his tatty briefcase and his shabby robes. "Good afternoon," he says. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands." This brightens my mood considerably. A practical lesson sounds much more fun than taking notes.

"Right then," says Professor Lupin once we're all ready. "If you'd follow me." We follow him out of the classroom and along a corridor. Around a corner, we see Peeves, who is floating upside down in midair and stuffing a keyhole with gum. He doesn't see us until Lupin is two feet away from him. Once he does, he wiggles his feet and breaks into song. "Loony, loopy, Lupin, loony, loopy, Lupin, loony, loopy, Lupin -" Peeves is normally at least semi-respectful towards the teachers, but this is crossing a line. We all look and see what Lupin will do. To my surprise, he's smiling. "I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves. Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms." Peeves, however, doesn't listen. Instead, he blows a loud raspberry. Lupin pulls out his wand.

"This is a useful little spell," he tells us over his shoulder. "Please watch closely." He raises the wand to shoulder height and points it at Peeves. "Waddiwasi!" The chewing gum shoots out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirls up-right and zooms away. "Sweet!" I tell him. That could be useful for Edward, to. "Thank you, Chloe," says Professor Lupin. "Shall we proceed?" We set off again down the hallway. We're lead down a second corridor an stop, right outside the staffroom door. "Inside, please," says Professor Lupin, opening it. It looks just as it had my first year when I went in here, except with Snape sitting in an armchair.

He looks around at us. As Lupin goes to close the door, Snape says, "leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He gets to his feet and walks past us. Before he leaves, he says, "possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear." I glare at Snape. He's a worse bully than most of the students here. Insulting Neville's academic knowledge in front of other teachers? Really? Lupin raises 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 turns even more red. Snape leaves, slamming the door behind him. "Now, then," says Professor Lupin, leading us toward an old closet. Lupin goes to stand next to it, and the wardrobe gives a sudden wobble, making a lot of us jump back. "Nothing to worry about. There's a boggart in there." I relax a little bit. I've read about Boggarts. They won't do you physical harm. Professor Lupin starts to talk about things I already know. "Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. 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 and I raise our hands, and I'm called on. "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. 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, that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

"Er - because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" he guesses. "Precisely. 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 practice the charm without wands first. After me, please... riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" we all say together. "Good," says Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville." The wardrobe shakes again, and Neville walks forward as if he's going to face Sirius Black by himself. "Right, Neville. First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" We could be here a while. Neville's lips move, but no sound comes out. "Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," "Professor Snape," Neville says in barely more than a whisper. We all laugh. "Professor Snape... hmmm.... Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?" "Er - yes. But - I don't want the boggart to turn into her either." Everyone laughs again.

"No, no, you misunderstand me. I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?" "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." Neville says. "And a handbag?" prompts Lupin. "A big red one," Neville confirms. "Right then. Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?" "Yes," says Neville uncertainly. "When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape, and you will raise your wand - thus - and cry 'Riddikulus' - and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag." There's more laughter from most of the class.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," says Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..." It doesn't take me any time to figure out what scares me most. My parents being killed. Growing up, I never thought about it much because vampires are extremely hard to kill. After what happened with the newborns, though, I've come to realize that my parents aren't as invincible as I used to think. A couple times during the summer, I would have nightmares that my parents were killed in the battle and I would wake up sobbing. How in the hell do I make that funny? I could put my dad in a fancy suit and my mom in a wedding dress. It's not funny, but it's cheerful.

"Everyone ready?" says Professor Lupin, and we all nod. "Neville, we're going to back away," says Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward... Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot -" Everyone backs up, leaving Neville alone. He looks pale and frightened. "On the count of three, Neville," says Professor Lupin. "One - two - three - now!" A jet of sparks shoots out from Lupin's wand and hits the doorknob, and the wardrobe bursts open. Professor Snape steps out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville backs away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape is bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes. "R - r - riddikulus!" squeaks Neville. There is a sound like a whip crack. Snape stumbles; he's wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he's swinging a huge crimson handbag. There's a roar of laughter from the class. Professor Lupin shouts, "Chloe! Forward!"

I step forward, trying to look confident. Snape rounds on me. There's another crack and where he previously stood, is a huge fire with the darkest smoke. I can see my mom's shins, clothed in skin-tight jeans and heels, sticking out from the flames. On the other side I recognize my dad's buff arm, as muscular as always. The worst part, though, is a few feet from the fire are their heads. My mom's, as perfect and flawless as always, lays down, face up and eyes open, with her long hair flowing behind her. My dad's head is on the other end of the fire, a blank look on his face that I've never seen before. My gut instinct is to run up to them and put their bodies back together. It's not real, it's not real. I point my wand at it. "Riddikulus!" I manage to shout. The scene changes and my parents are standing at a flowery alter. My dad is wearing a crisp black suit and my mom is wearing a lovely ivory dress with lots of tulle and sparkle and a very long train. "Seamus!" roars Professor Lupin.

After class, we all are talking about the lesson. "That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" says Ron as we go back to the classroom to get our bags. "He seems like a very good teacher, but I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart," says Hermione. "I don't know if you would like that. Seeing your worst fear in front of you..." I say, and I shiver involuntarily at the end. "I don't know if I'll be able to get the image of my parents heads and their bodies in flames out of my head..." I mutter, however I don't think they hear me. "What would it have been for you?" says Ron to Hermione, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"