The three of them were afraid of the same thing — or rather, the same person. So, as the Boggart switched frantically between its targets, the three versions of Sean began to merge grotesquely together. Before everyone's eyes, the Boggart swelled and warped, twisting into an absurdly tall, broad-shouldered giant with Sean's face, but proportions so mismatched it looked more like a bad caricature than a real person.
The towering Giant Sean loomed over Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe — who had backed themselves helplessly against the wall — and it let out a low, rumbling roar while swinging its huge fists through the air.
Sean, standing at the back, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"...Honestly?"
He stepped forward, passing the frozen students, and stopped just in front of the trio who were trembling like startled mice. With an absent flick of his wand, he muttered, "Riddikulus."
The giant Boggart-Sean immediately shrank down and popped into a bouncing black sphere, drifting lazily through the air like a rogue balloon.
Sean was about to step back to his place at the end of the line when, out of nowhere, the Boggart paused midair. As if sniffing out something deeper, it shivered — then reshaped itself in a flash.
Where the floating sphere had been, a thin, dignified old man now stood: back straight, hair slicked perfectly, sharp eyes hidden behind small glasses — every inch of him radiating strict discipline.
Sean's wand froze halfway to his side. Gideon?
His mind blanked for a heartbeat — then the absurdity sank in. Wait. Is Gideon… really what I fear most?
He let out a small, almost incredulous laugh. "Huh."
The Boggart-Gideon adjusted his sleeves, lips pursed as if ready to lecture Sean about ten different failures at once.
Sean raised his wand again. "Riddikulus."
Instantly, Boggart-Gideon broke into an enthusiastic tap dance across the stone floor, shoes clacking ridiculously as he spun around. A moment later, the figure who'd once haunted countless meticulous notes and unspoken expectations zipped backward — vanishing back into the rattling wardrobe with a final flourish.
Around him, the other students stared, wide-eyed and half unsure what to make of what they'd just seen. Sean just shrugged, slipped his wand into his sleeve, and moved back to his spot — as if nothing strange had happened at all.
The rest of the class passed without further surprises. The Boggart frightened no one half as badly as it had the Malfoys. Lupin carried on calmly — though Sean couldn't help but notice that, when it came time for Harry's turn, Lupin stepped in with casual firmness to steer him away. Whatever Harry's greatest fear was, Lupin clearly wasn't ready for the rest of the class to see it — and Harry looked quietly grateful for it.
After all, Lupin could have guessed Harry's greatest fear with his eyes closed — it would either be Voldemort himself or Dementors. In any case, either apparition would throw the entire classroom into chaos the moment it appeared. So, Lupin hadn't planned on letting Harry face the Boggart in front of everyone; instead, he intended to give James Potter's son some private lessons when the time came.
Since that first lesson was such a resounding success, Defense Against the Dark Arts quickly became one of the most popular classes at Hogwarts.
Even among the Slytherins — who usually scoffed at anything not related to their own ambitions — Lupin's class was praised more and more. Of course, there were three notable exceptions: the "three Malfoys," as some students had begun to jokingly call Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe after their spectacular Boggart fiasco. Ever since that day, Snape's cross-dressing Boggart and the giant, terrifying "Sean" that sent the trio screaming around the room had spread like wildfire throughout the school's rumor mill.
It didn't help that a few clever Hufflepuffs would hum "Rid-di-ku-lus~" under their breath as Malfoy passed, or that Goyle sometimes instinctively crossed his legs whenever Sean appeared behind him in the hallway.
As a result, Malfoy's dislike for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class — and for Lupin himself — festered by the day.
Still, Lupin didn't care, nor did most of Hogwarts. The professor pressed on with his practical, well-paced lessons. In the weeks that followed, he introduced students to all manner of aggressive dark creatures: Red Caps, Boggarts' cousins, and Kappas. One by one, they appeared in the classroom, and each demonstration drew gasps, laughter, or awe from the students.
Sean, for his part, remained politely indifferent to Lupin himself — but he couldn't deny it anymore: this was the first time he'd seen a Defense Against the Dark Arts class done right. Before Lupin, Sean had secretly wondered if the entire subject was redundant — surely Transfiguration, Charms, and Dueling Club were enough to prepare a wizard for anything? But Lupin's lessons showed him that the true point of Defense Against the Dark Arts was never just about the spells. It was about how to use them when things went horribly wrong — how to stay calm, adapt, and survive.
September passed in a blink, punctuated by Lupin's practical classes, Snape's constant potion experiments, and the lingering gossip about Malfoy's shrieks echoing in the corridor.
By the time October rolled around, a crisp chill crept into the castle halls, and the Quidditch season was just around the corner. One by one, the house teams dusted off their brooms, polished their bats, and started full-scale training for the matches to come.
----------
Sean was sitting in the library, writing something.
Last week, Sean had completed the replacement of the second material. It was a mixture of two low-level materials processed by special methods. Although the effect was slightly weaker than the orthodox material, it could still complete the potion with little difference in the final result. After discussing it with Snape, they confirmed that this plan was feasible, and the replacement of the second material was declared complete.
In addition, with the start of the new school year, the Potions Club welcomed a new member, bringing the total number back to five.
----------
Firwood Club.
Sean explained his understanding of the third stage of Transfiguration, and the members present each gained something from it. Professor McGonagall also looked at her proud student.
It was a pity that he was a Slytherin. His aesthetics were really bad.
The silver-green color scheme was like a cesspool, while the gold-red color scheme was the eternal glory!
Of course, Professor McGonagall didn't really think so seriously — but there was more or less that meaning.
After the club ended, Professor McGonagall kept Sean behind as usual.
"Sean, how is your previous paper going?"
Sean was writing a paper on the relationship between Transfiguration and alchemy. His progress had been good before, but recently he had been obsessed with studying the material replacement for the Wolfsbane Potion, so he had inevitably fallen behind.
He couldn't tell the truth to Professor McGonagall, and any excuses would be too poor and seen through, so Sean simply said, "Professor, I'm stuck in the alchemy part at the moment. There are no relevant courses at Hogwarts, so I can only rely on some books I brought back from Beauxbatons and teach myself. Because of that, my writing has slowed down a lot. The current progress isn't ideal, and I may need more time to study."
Hearing this, Professor McGonagall nodded in understanding. "If that's the case, there isn't much I can help you with, but I can try to write to some wizards who are proficient in alchemy and ask for their advice. If they can help, I'll let you know."
"Thank you, Professor. Sorry for bothering you."
Shaking her head, Professor McGonagall said, "It's no bother at all. You're my student, so I will naturally help you as much as I can. Besides, no student has managed to write a qualified paper on Transfiguration in many years. I hope to see your paper published in one of the Transfiguration journals."
Professor McGonagall did not mention the most famous Transfiguration journal in Europe, Animagus, because she knew very well that this journal was different from others. Unless a paper was truly qualified, it would not publish unqualified work even if it meant halting publication entirely. Its review standards were extremely strict, and Professor McGonagall did not believe that Sean's current ability could yet reach that level.