Under the doors of the DADA classroom, we stood in a crowd and waited. Waited for the professor in this subject to finally arrive, and judging by conversations and assumptions of students, DADA professors here change annually.
"…did you talk to him?" Potter's voice came through the quiet hum of the crowd of students.
"No, didn't have time yet," Hermione answered.
"So go. Or you never know, they'll say something else…"
Glancing towards the Gryffindors, I saw Hermione nod and walk briskly towards me, but she didn't make it.
"Students, good day," an adult male voice sounded and we all paid attention to a fair-haired man approaching us in patched and not particularly new, but clearly practical clothes and robes. "Come in."
Professor Lupin, for that was the name of this strange and suspicious man, led us into a classroom well lit by the sun through high windows with colourless stained glass. Now all benches and desks were pushed to the stone wall, on which hung various posters with drawings of creatures, some tables and instructions—there were more creatures.
"You can put away the textbooks," the Professor spoke briskly, walking to the wardrobe and turning to us. "Today we have a practical lesson, leave only wands. At first I wanted to conduct the lesson here and started preparing the class, that's why the desks are moved. But I was offered a better place. Follow me."
Many decided to leave their things here, but there were those who simply put everything back in bags—I was among them. Following Lupin, we left the classroom and moved in a disorderly crowd along the corridors. In one of them, the Professor led us clearly through a secret passage, and we found ourselves in another corridor and clearly in another tower. Ten meters, and here we are standing before the large doors of the staff room.
"Well, here we are, come in."
The staff room could boast large windows and good lighting, and the wood paneling of the walls, as well as antique but well-maintained furniture in the form of various armchairs, sofas, and tables, created a very favorable atmosphere. For a complete picture, only a couple of antique cabinets with ancient folios and some magical gadgets were missing—then it would be immediately visible that wizards gather here.
Just in one of such armchairs next to the fireplace sat Professor Snape, and at the sight of us, he smirked somehow insidiously, and his dark eyes acquired a certain mischievous gleam. Lupin entered last and wanted to close the door, but Snape got up from the sofa, even in this gesture managing to theatrically fling open the black cloak over black clothes.
Batman, give or take! Hmm, and who is Batman, and why do I associate Snape with him?
"Who is Batman?" I asked Justin.
"Pffft…" the guy choked, covering his mouth.
Justin shifted a bewildered gaze to Snape, to me, again to Snape.
"It's really true…"
"So who is he?"
"I'll tell you later."
While we were whispering quietly, Snape had already approached the not particularly friendly Lupin. No, there was no malice or anything in the new professor. Wariness and feigned benevolence—that was there.
"Wait, Lupin, I think I'll go. The spectacle promises to be unpleasant."
In the doorway, Snape turned around.
"I want to warn you, Lupin, Neville Longbottom studies in this class. So, I advise not to entrust him with anything responsible, he won't cope. Unless Miss Granger whispers in his ear what and how to do."
Lupin was notably surprised.
"And I hoped that Neville specifically would help me today. I am sure he will cope perfectly."
The discussed plump boy from Gryffindor turned redder than a tomato—and how does he manage to change colour like that?
Snape slammed the door loudly in parting, and Lupin with a slight smile approached the wardrobe with mirrors on the door standing almost in the middle of the staff room. As soon as the Professor approached the wardrobe, it immediately rattled and jerked, as if someone was trying to break out from there. This scared the kids in the front rows seriously.
"There is merely an ordinary Boggart there," the teacher calmed everyone. "So there is nothing to fear."
This explanation helped not at all strongly, and many continued to look at the wardrobe with apprehension.
"Boggarts love darkness," Lupin continued to explain. "Most often they can be found in a wardrobe, under a bed, in a box under the washbasin. I found one in the case of a grandfather clock. This one appeared here only yesterday. I asked the Headmaster to leave it for our lesson today. Who will answer what a Boggart is?"
Only Hermione raised her hand. For the umpteenth time I notice that she tries to answer any question with or without reason. Of course, Lupin chose her among everyone—she was simply the only one who wanted to answer.
"A Boggart is a creature that changes its appearance. It turns into what a person fears most."
"Wonderful, even I wouldn't have answered more precisely."
Lupin's praise was enough for my sister to literally blush. Does she really lack approval and praise from "authoritative" adults so much? After all, she doesn't react so sharply to peer praise. Amusing. And I also wonder how she plans to solve the "problem" with me?
While I pondered various social nuances of my existence, Lupin finished the intro on the Boggart and showed us the spell against it—Riddikulus. This spell should turn the Boggart into something funny, thereby causing positive emotions in the wizard and neutralizing the Boggart, or rather—its impact. Although, if I understood the essence of this immaterial creature from Hagrid's bestiary correctly, it is something like an immaterial spirit, with which necromancers in my memories often work. You can fight them in different ways, but excluding necromancy itself, light with a certain wavelength and fire as an aggressive environment, and Life, Death, Order, as energies, are good against such creatures.
"Riddikulus!" everyone repeated in chorus after Lupin, and practiced the movement without a wand.
Of course, I joined them. Whatever the experience from the shards, it is incomplete, and I simply must study the local school of magic at least in the hope that it will serve as a sort of bridge to at least part of the hidden knowledge in my soul.
"Riddikulus!" we pronounced again and waved empty hands.
"Excellent," Lupin was satisfied with the visible results. "But this is the easiest part. The magic word itself won't help you. This is exactly where I will need your help, Neville. Come here."
The guy timidly approached the Professor, who stood a couple of meters opposite the wardrobe. The wardrobe shook, Neville shook, Slytherins shook, but from suppressed chuckles. He whispered something quietly with the Professor, nodded, and so, the moment of truth arrived.
"What do you think he'll have?" Anthony standing nearby asked.
"Snape, what else?" Justin shrugged, trying to seem unperturbed, but his specific face along with slight pallor created the impression of an extremely frightened but proud movie villain. But the guy turned out to be right.
As soon as Neville, shaking himself and shaking the wand in his hands, nodded uncertainly, Lupin waved his hand and the wardrobe opened. No one and nothing flew out of the impenetrable darkness in the wardrobe, but a moment later the real Snape came out of there, looking menacingly at Neville. He shook worse than before, and began to turn pale, trying to catch up in colour with chalk for the board. I watched this with keen interest. Of course, it's not good when kids "suffer," but all my truly rich experience tells me one thing—kids will "suffer" one way or another. Such is the path of growing up.
The Boggart in the form of Snape tried to commit something threatening towards Neville.
"R-riddikulus!" the boy shouted in panic, but nothing happened. "Riddikulus!"
The second attempt was slightly more confident, and this was enough for the Boggart in the form of Snape to suddenly appear dressed in a green skirt suit, a hat with a stuffed vulture, and with a pink lady's handbag on the crook of his elbow.
The students literally neighed, filling the space of the staff room with deafening laughter. Even some Slytherins could not contain smirks. I couldn't help but notice the light, and literally oozing with poison, smile of Daphne—the blue-eyed brunette with whom, by Snape's will, I now have to work in Potions. Well, I don't mind. Without noticing it myself, with a real elven step, not even disturbing the air, however strange it sounds, I approached the girl.
"Having fun," I whispered quietly. Quietly, but loud enough for her to notice, put a mask of indifference on her face, and turn to me.
"Granger," she answered just as quietly.
"Greengrass."
At Lupin's command, Neville was replaced by Parvati Patil—now at least I'll know the name of this Indian girl from Gryffindor, who has a twin in Ravenclaw. The Boggart in the form of trans-Snape changed to a movie mummy, all wrapped in bandages. It stretched its arms forward and took a step towards Parvati, but the girl applied Riddikulus, and the bandages on the mummy's legs unraveled, entangling the legs. The mummy fell with a crash to the floor, and its head rolled away.
"And what is the reason for your gloating?" I continued to talk quietly and imperceptibly to everyone with Daphne.
"I'm afraid the reason for my hypothetical gloating has nothing to do with you."
"Ah, so you will be silent?"
"Oh, I will speak," the girl turned up her nose slightly. "But that doesn't mean you will hear what you want."
"Riddikulus!" another shout from one of the students transformed the Boggart into something funny, causing laughter from the other guys.
"You clearly have some conflict," I continued the conversation.
"Unfounded assumption."
When your lifespan exceeds a thousand years, you involuntarily meet a person who will somehow remind you of another. So Daphne seems familiar to me. In fairness, it is worth noting that some other guys I managed to talk to evoke a feeling of déjà vu in me. Insignificant, in small details. Everything somehow intertwines with something.
Looking around and making sure that the guys around were paying attention only to the next form of the Boggart and what Lupin's victim would turn it into, I raised my left hand palm up, took the wand in my right, and began to trace construct contours familiar to me with its help, relying on intuition, and combining with the mastered base of transfiguration. These contours belong to the simplest and do not manifest themselves in the visible spectrum, so I was not afraid to attract attention.
Slowly gathering air around and compressing it to such a state that light began to refract, distorting, I chose the resulting sphere as an object of transfiguration, set the formula, visualized the object, and decided to be naughty a little, adding constructs specialized for Life energy.
"Here," with a slight smile I handed a real ice, crystal clear rose to Daphne, who was secretly watching the manipulations.
Daphne accepted the gift as her due, which couldn't help but amuse me.
"And what is this?"
"Beautiful, but cold, capable of pricking to blood at any awkward movement," I replied with a slight smile. "But if you know how to warm it…"
I ran a finger along the petals of the transparent ice rose, and in the place of contact they became blood red, as they should be. As soon as I removed my hand, the rose became ice again.
"It will bloom with bright colours."
"Subtle," Daphne noted with an incredibly poisonous, but by no means nasty, as it happens, smirk. "I approve."
"It is, one might say, alive. Plant it in the ground—it will freeze and sprout. Plant it in ice—it will sprout and break, transforming into a bush."
"Amusing cascade transfiguration with the addition of charms," Daphne stated her vision of the creation process.
"Granger," I heard Lupin's voice and turned in his direction.
Hermione took a step forward, but the Professor, noticing this, put out his hand in a stopping gesture.
"Mr. Granger, I meant."
"Yes, Professor?"
"To the barrier," he pointed with his hand to the place where other students stood, applying the spell on the Boggart.
Some students, as memory suggests, in which the experiments on taming this creature observed by me settled as background, came out very quickly and the Boggart didn't have time to hide in the wardrobe. But it also happened that it managed to, and the student approached the closed wardrobe in which this magical creature lurked. That's exactly where I should have ended up, only…
"I refuse."
Lupin looked at me with such an expression as if I had literally crapped in his shoes. Such offense.
"Allow me, Mr. Granger," Lupin quickly pulled himself together and smiled kindly. "But, as a Professor, I ask you to come out here and show your skills in fighting a Boggart."
"I refuse," I repeated just the same.
A light poke in the side from Anthony forced me to pay attention to the guy.
"Hey, what's with you? Come on out, cast a spell, if anything—we'll cover you," he spoke quietly.
Despite the noise of general disapproval in my direction, his words, strangely enough, were perfectly heard by Lupin.
"Your classmate is right, Mr. Granger. There is nothing terrible in meeting your greatest fear face to face. Moreover, it will be in a much weakened form. And with the support of the other guys, you will easily cope, I am sure."
"I refuse," I answered just the same, not at all embarrassed by the general condemnation—let them crack in half for all I care.
"Chickened out?" Malfoy inquired maliciously, creeping up from somewhere on the side.
"Oh, Mr. Malfoy," I smiled joyfully at the blond who returned his hair to the colour intended by nature. "It's high time for you to show Slytherin bravery and courage, throw yourself on the embrasure, demonstrating your fear to all ill-wishers. Demonstrating the most vulnerable spot, which can be hit so hard that only a name and bad memory will remain of you. Why are you paling so, Mr. Malfoy, forward! Glory doesn't wait…"
"Mr. Granger!" Lupin spoke much more seriously. "If you do not come out here, I will be forced, to my regret, to deduct penalty points from your House."
"Don't lose points for nothing, Hector," Anthony poked me in the side.
"Well then… Professor, I refuse to put my fear on display without the possibility of receiving a reward for such a thing."
"Reward? That is not quite what I expected to hear from a Hufflepuff student."
Despite his words, Lupin smiled again, which means he has a solution.
"Since you, Mr. Granger, are so afraid of your fear that you hesitate in indecision in the gallery, I offer you ten points if you defeat the Boggart successfully and on the first attempt."
For some reason, I expected something like that.
"How do you like that?"
For show, I hesitated on the spot, catching Daphne's poisonous smirk with my peripheral vision. Winking at her secretly, I nodded to the Professor and stepped forward to the approving cheers of the other students. Standing opposite the wardrobe and holding the wand in my hands, I concentrated. Even if I didn't watch what was happening very carefully, I drew some conclusions about the Boggart.
"Ready?" asked Lupin.
"Undoubtedly, Professor."
He waved his hand, and the wardrobe door opened. A shapeless clot began to quickly climb out of the blackness, starting to turn into something on the go. Did I wait? Of course not! Concentrating neutral magic and passing it through consciousness, in which I formed the contour of a banal, but no less destructive fireball, I literally formed this ball on the tip of the wand in a fraction of a second and threw it into the wardrobe, from which the Boggart had not yet fully emerged. A moment, and the immaterial entity instantly caught fire, as did the wardrobe, and then an explosion rang out, the directed wave of which literally swept away the wardrobe and dissipated the Boggart, showering the wall with smoking fragments.
Dead silence reigned in the staff room.
"It seems," I looked at Lupin with a frightened look. "I defeated the Boggart."
"You destroyed it, Mr. Granger," the Professor looked with slight shock at the remains of the wardrobe continuing to smoke against the wall.
"Well, we didn't stipulate exactly how I should defeat it and with what consequences. The main thing is the result."
"Well, ten points to Hufflepuff for a crushing victory over the Boggart. But still… Why exactly like that?"
In the not particularly joyful hum of students, one could hear rare approving, literally oozing with satisfaction notes—it's not every time something goes "boom" so loudly.
"I'm from Hufflepuff," I shrugged. "Got so very, very scared that, well, hit it from shock. You know, they say there are two types of reaction to a threat."
"Fight or flight," the Professor nodded with a smirk.
"Precisely, Professor. It seems I run badly."
On this note, the lesson came to an end due to the fact that the Boggart so inappropriately "kicked the bucket". And where do all these phrases come from in my head? I can't reach them consciously.
The rest of the day passed without any excesses. At lunch, everyone already knew about the events in the DADA lesson. The alternatively gifted sincerely mocked the fact that I, allegedly, got scared. The more astute chuckled at how deftly I outsmarted Lupin. A small part of the beautiful half of Slytherin looked at me somehow dangerously—a simple message was read in these glances: "Where are you climbing, Mudblood?!". What can I say? Scared a hedgehog with a bare butt—your prejudices do not compare with elven discrimination based on predispositions to magic!