Lupin slowly opened the wardrobe door. The Boggart drifted out at once — a shapeless wisp at first, but as soon as it sensed Lupin's presence, it snapped into form, becoming what he feared most. To the students, it looked like a softly glowing crystal orb — but only Lupin and Sean knew the truth: it was meant to be the moon.
For Lupin, the moon was his greatest fear — the cruel trigger for his transformation each month. But here, under Hogwarts' safe roof, this conjured image held no real power. Lupin raised his wand calmly."Riddikulus!"
There was a loud pop!
The shining moon shimmered, shrank, and turned into a giant, absurd cockroach that skittered frantically across the floor. With a flick of his wand, Lupin forced it back into the wardrobe, which rattled shut behind it.
Lowering his wand, Lupin turned to face the class."Now then — after that little demonstration, who can tell me what a Boggart is?"
Hermione's hand shot up before he'd even finished the question."Miss Granger?"
Hermione lifted her chin, clearly delighted to answer."A Boggart is a shape-shifter, Professor. It takes the form of whatever a person fears most — so its power comes from our own imagination."
"Excellent — couldn't have said it better myself," Lupin said warmly. He scanned the room. "So, if a Boggart feeds on our fear, how do we fight back? What advantage do we have? Harry?"
Harry straightened a little, thinking."There's so many of us… so if we stand together, it won't know what to turn into?"
"Exactly!" Lupin beamed at him. "When we face a Boggart as a group, we confuse it — it can't decide which fear to choose, and that weakens it.
"But if you're alone, you still have a defense. You saw what I did just now — a simple spell…"
Hermione, far too eager, practically bounced in place. Her hand shot up again, but this time she blurted out the answer before Lupin could call on her."Riddikulus, Professor! You said 'Riddikulus!'"
Lupin chuckled and tapped her shoulder with the tip of his wand."Quite right, Hermione. The spell is Riddikulus. When facing a Boggart, you use it to force the creature into something… well, ridiculous. Fear turns into laughter, and laughter defeats the Boggart."
He gestured at the rattling wardrobe behind him."Now — time to try for yourselves. Form a line — and one by one, step up and show the Boggart who's really in charge."
Sean stood near the end of the line, watching Lupin work with quiet appreciation. Whatever his personal feelings about getting close to Lupin, he had to admit: this was what a real Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson should look like. Clear, practical, engaging — nothing like the laughable spectacle of Lockhart's dramatics or the constant stammering dread that Quirrell had radiated.
In front, the Gryffindor students eagerly lined up to face the Boggart first. The Slytherins, by contrast, lingered near the back, arms crossed or hands shoved in pockets — most of them wore bored, faintly disdainful expressions. They'd caught enough of Snape's cold disapproval of Lupin to feel no loyalty to the new professor, and they made no effort to hide it.
One by one, the Boggart shifted shape.A rotting, blood-dripping mummy lurched forward — banished with a flick to become a headless clown that danced a silly jig.A floating ghost with hollow green eyes shrieked — then turned into a puffed-up balloon that squeaked when poked.A hulking, hairy spider scuttled forward — only to sprout roller skates and spin helplessly across the floor.Professor McGonagall materialized, tight-lipped and severe, brandishing an exam paper with a giant red T. She turned bright pink and started tap-dancing in Neville's grandmother's hat.
Every time, the room burst into giggles and cheers, the Gryffindors' confidence building with each success. Even the Slytherins at the back began to relax, some grinning despite themselves.
Then it was Neville's turn. He stepped forward — pale but determined — wand clutched in his trembling hand. The wardrobe burst open again, and the Boggart swirled into shape: there stood Snape.
The entire room fell silent.There he was — Severus Snape exactly as they all knew him: black robes billowing, sallow face twisted in disdain, cold eyes narrowing at Neville as if about to deliver one of his soul-crushing rebukes. A hush fell even over the Slytherins. Snape's authority was such that seeing even a fake version made them straighten up by instinct.
Lupin's smile faltered for half a heartbeat, but he quickly leaned toward Neville and spoke gently, "Neville — remember what we talked about. The spell is ready inside you. You just need to say it. Riddikulus! Picture the thing that makes him laughable. Picture it — then say it!"
Hearing Lupin's encouragement, Neville drew a deep breath. His wand trembled in his sweaty grip as he forced himself to focus. Once… twice… the words caught in his throat — but on the third try, he managed it.
"Riddikulus!"
Bang!
A ripple of laughter burst from the Gryffindors as the Boggart-Snape was instantly transformed: gone was the scowling, intimidating Potions Master — in his place stood Snape clad in a ridiculous lace-trimmed green dress, a frilly hat perched precariously atop his greasy hair, and a huge old-fashioned handbag hanging daintily from his arm.
The Gryffindors roared. Even a few Slytherins couldn't help but snort — but the only ones who laughed outright were Crabbe and Goyle.
Sean stood at the back, arms folded, watching the spectacle with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. In his mind, it wasn't Neville's fault for fearing Snape — it was Snape's for planting that fear so deeply in the first place.
Then, amid the giggling, Malfoy elbowed his way forward, dragging Crabbe and Goyle along. Goyle shoved a Gryffindor aside to get closer — the hush that fell over the class told Sean that everyone was curious to see what Malfoy's worst fear would be.
Lupin, wand tucked loosely in his hand, watched Malfoy with mild but clear disapproval. Still, he didn't interfere.
The Boggart flickered — its frilly lace Snape blurred, twisted — and then solidified again.
What emerged made the entire room freeze. Standing there, arms folded, expression cold and eyes narrowed just slightly, was Sean.Sean — exactly as he looked now — but somehow more imposing. The weight of his gaze alone made Malfoy stagger a step back, face draining of color.
Half the class turned their heads in unison, staring at the real Sean at the back of the line.
Sean's eyebrow twitched. I'm the thing he fears most? Really?
Malfoy's mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out at first. Then he squeaked, "S-sli—sli—sli—"
He couldn't even get the incantation out. The Boggart-Sean took a slow step forward, and the terror in Malfoy's eyes deepened. Goyle, sensing his master's panic, lumbered forward — only for the Boggart to snap into a new form: Sean, wand raised, punching Crabbe square in the nose. Crabbe flinched so hard he almost toppled over.
Snap. A flicker — now the Boggart was Sean again, booting Goyle sharply in the crotch. Goyle doubled over, a choked whimper escaping him.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Every time Crabbe or Goyle tried to block Malfoy, the Boggart shifted — becoming another memory of Sean handing them their humiliation, each time more vivid than the last. With each change, Malfoy's squeals grew shriller.
"Goyle! Crabbe! Do something!" Malfoy shrieked, voice cracking. But Goyle had clapped both hands protectively between his legs and looked ready to run for it; Crabbe was half hiding behind him.