The students stood in a loose semi-circle, all eyes locked on the rattling wardrobe. The air in the classroom was thick with tension, anticipation mixing with the slightest undercurrent of dread.
So far, every Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson this year had been miles better than the disasters of their first two years. Even the lectures felt different. Practical. No pointless theory. Just real magic, the kind that mattered.
"Anyone fancy a guess at what's inside?" Lupin strolled past them, hands stuffed in his pockets, moving like a man who had all the time in the world. Except his eyes. His eyes were sharp, scanning the class, picking up details they probably didn't realise they were giving away.
"A Boggart, sir," Dean answered, not taking his eyes off the wardrobe, like expecting it to come flying at them any second.
"Good, Mr Thomas." Lupin nodded approvingly. "And what does a Boggart actually look like?"
Silence.
The wardrobe gave another violent shake, the latch rattling against the wood. A few students flinched, shifting back a step.
"No one really knows," Hermione answered, quick and precise, as if racing to say it before anyone else could. "A Boggart is a shape-shifter, so it…"
"Takes the form of whatever frightens the person who faces it," Lupin finished smoothly, flashing her a quick smile before turning back to the class. "So right now, in there? It's nothing. Just waiting. But the moment I let it out, it'll sense who's in front of it and poof, it becomes their worst nightmare."
That got a reaction.
A few swallowed hard. Others leaned in, curious despite themselves.
Ron frowned suddenly and nudged Harry. "Oi, when did she get here?"
Harry, still lost in his own thoughts, didn't answer.
"Which means," Lupin continued, pacing now, "this lesson is going to be a little different. See, some of you might think fighting dark creatures means blasting them to bits, but a Boggart?" His grin turned almost mischievous. "The best way to deal with one? Laughter."
That threw them off. The mood shifted, not quite relaxed, but no longer as tense.
Lupin clapped his hands together. "Alright then. Who's ready to face their fears?"
Predictably, almost no one volunteered. A few students glanced around, waiting for someone braver or just more reckless to step up first.
Lupin smirked. "No takers? Thought as much. Alright, everyone, line up. Let's not keep our friend in the wardrobe waiting."
A shuffle of movement as the class hesitantly arranged themselves, no one looking particularly thrilled about being here. Lupin moved to the side, leaning against a desk with a lazy sort of ease, but his eyes stayed sharp.
"First up…" His gaze scanned the line before landing on Neville. "Mr Longbottom, front and centre."
Neville looked like he'd rather walk into a nest of Acromantulas.
A few students snickered, not cruelly, just… it was Neville. His nerves were legendary.
Lupin didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "Come now, nothing to worry about. We're all in this together."
Neville shuffled forward like he was walking to his own funeral.
Seamus leaned over to Ron. "Bet it's a giant spider."
Ron shook his head. "Nah, Snape. Definitely Snape."
That did it. Half the class burst into laughter.
Neville's ears turned pink. "It's not funny," he muttered.
But Draco Malfoy wasn't laughing. While the others were busy winding each other up, he found himself watching the wardrobe, frowning slightly.
What's my fear?
Snape? No. Even without future knowledge, that wasn't something worth fearing. He was just a greasy man in black robes with a talent for glaring.
The Dark Lord? Not really. He should be terrified, everyone else was, but he couldn't bring himself to be. He had too much knowledge, too many ways to avoid that particular fate.
Dumbledore? Annoying, yes. Manipulative, obviously. But fear? Nah. If anything, the old man was a puzzle to solve, not a nightmare waiting to happen.
Muggles? A war was coming. He knew that. But fear wasn't the right word. Preparation, caution, sure. But fear? No.
So what was there to fear?
His eyes flicked to the wardrobe again.
If the Boggart thought he was Draco Malfoy, would it show something predictable? His father? A furious mother? Losing his magic?
No. Not with gacha. Magic was locked in. That was never going to be a problem for him.
Or…
Would it see him?
The real him.
The one who wasn't supposed to be here.
Boggarts read minds. They knew things. They had an instinct for fear that went deeper than surface-level worries. Occlumency wouldn't help, not unless you were a master, and he wasn't.
It would see through him.
Now that was a fun thought.
Draco's fingers twitched at his side, but his face remained neutral. He didn't take his eyes off the wardrobe, though a slow smirk crept onto his face as Ron let out a strangled yelp at the sight of a massive spider.
It was funny.
All these kids worrying about spiders and grumpy professors, like that was the worst thing that could happen to them. Meanwhile, he was standing here, half-expecting the Boggart to blow his cover and announce to the whole class: This guy? Yeah, he's a fraud.
He exhaled through his nose, amused.
One thing he couldn't deny, this class was definitely fun.
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