This term's Defence Against the Dark Arts "entrance exam" wasn't for every year—only the fourth and fifth years were assigned this challenge. The other grade-obsessed students, who had guessed there might be a test and prepared in advance, were left feeling a bit disgruntled.
When the second-year Gryffindors entered the classroom, they found the desks and chairs pushed to the sides, with a large trunk sitting squarely in the middle.
Douglas clapped his hands. "In a moment, please hand your holiday homework to Miss Granger. Today, we're going to learn how to deal with a Boggart…
Hands down, everyone. Judging by your past marks, I'm confident you all know what a Boggart is, so no quiz today.
Let's start by practicing the incantation. Oh, Mr. Longbottom, no need to grab your wand just yet—we'll work on pronunciation first, wands away for now…
The Boggart-Banishing Spell is quite simple. Repeat after me: Riddikulus!"
Neville Longbottom scratched his head sheepishly and tucked his wand away. Last term, he'd managed an Acceptable in Defence Against the Dark Arts—an achievement that had made his gran positively ecstatic. That's why he was so eager to do well in this class.
Under Douglas's lead, the students drilled the spell's pronunciation again and again.
When Douglas was satisfied, he nodded approvingly. "Excellent! But remember, proper pronunciation isn't enough. You'll need strong willpower as well…
Now, everyone, please step outside. We'll go one at a time."
Hermione shot her hand up. "Professor, the textbook says the more people there are, the easier it is to defeat a Boggart, because it doesn't know what to turn into."
Douglas smiled. "That's true, but you can't always count on having a crowd around when you run into a Boggart, can you?"
In truth, Douglas had another reason for this arrangement. A Boggart exposes the thing each person fears most—something deeply private. Forcing students to reveal that in front of the whole class, whether or not they conquered their fear, struck him as disrespectful.
Once everyone had filed out, Douglas began calling them in one by one.
First up: Neville.
"Don't be nervous, Mr. Longbottom. Take it easy! Do you remember your homework about Boggarts?"
Neville's eyes flicked nervously from the trembling trunk to Douglas. He blushed. "Sorry, Professor, I… I don't remember!"
Douglas gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. No one remembers everything they've written—why, I can barely recall the details of the sequel I wrote at the start of term.
I do remember you wrote about your uncle facing a Boggart that turned into your gran—and he managed to get the Boggart-gran drunk, didn't he?"
Neville's face lit up. "Yes, yes! I remember now!"
Douglas grinned. "Still nervous?"
Neville shook his head, forcing out a shaky smile. "No, Professor. I remember the textbook says Boggarts are most afraid of laughter…"
Douglas nearly quipped that Neville's smile alone could finish off a Boggart.
"Good. Now, take out your wand. When you're ready, we'll begin."
Neville drew his wand, stance more like a duelist than a wizard. Douglas walked to the corner and snapped his fingers—bang!—the trunk lid sprang open.
"Don't forget," he reminded, "picture the most ridiculous form you can."
Suddenly, out of the trunk stepped Professor Snape.
Douglas blinked in surprise. He'd expected something else. Although this scene happened in the original timeline when they were third years, he hadn't thought Neville would be this scared of Snape already.
Neville's hands and voice both shook violently. If not for the confidence he'd built up in Defence class last term—or the sense that this was his home turf—he might have surrendered the moment Snape appeared.
The Boggart-Snape advanced, step by step, eyes full of contempt.
Douglas stayed silent. They'd learned all the theory; now, what mattered was courage.
As the Boggart-Snape loomed over him, Neville's knees trembled. Douglas was just about to call the challenge a failure when—
"Riddikulus!" Neville shouted.
Suddenly, the Boggart-Snape's face flushed crimson, and his hooked nose ballooned into a giant red clown's nose. He staggered drunkenly, muttering nonsense, then tripped on his own robes and collapsed in a heap—failing three times to stand up.
Neville's laughter rang out, loud and unrestrained. The Boggart-Snape looked utterly panicked, scrambling drunkenly back toward the trunk.
Douglas couldn't help but laugh as well. He was glad he'd done this exercise privately—if word got out about Snape in this state, Neville's Potions lessons would become a nightmare.
Once the Boggart had crawled back inside, Douglas snapped his fingers and the lid slammed shut.
Only then did Neville remember he wasn't alone in the classroom. He turned pale. "P-Professor!"
Douglas smiled. "Don't worry—I won't tell Professor Snape. And my advice? Don't breathe a word of this to anyone else. After all, it's Professor Snape we're talking about."
Neville's color returned and he nodded vigorously.
"Congratulations, Mr. Longbottom—challenge completed!"
Neville raced from the classroom, closing the door behind him.
Douglas rolled his eyes—he'd been about to call the next student. Sighing, he opened the door himself.
"Miss Patil!"
Parvati Patil, Hermione's roommate, stepped inside. When the trunk opened, a bloodied, bandage-wrapped mummy lurched out, its eyeless face turning toward Parvati. Dragging its feet, it advanced, arms outstretched…
Parvati handled herself better than Neville—at least her lips weren't trembling—but in that moment, she clearly forgot it was just a Boggart.
She fired an Impediment Jinx at the mummy, blasting it several feet back, but it quickly hurtled toward her again. Parvati deftly cast a Serpentine Glide on herself and began circling the classroom at speed…
Douglas pinched the bridge of his nose. This was supposed to be a lesson on defeating Boggarts.
Five minutes later, the Boggart-mummy finally cornered Parvati.
Catching her pleading look, Douglas flicked his wand. "Riddikulus!"
The mummy's bandages transformed into spider legs, and under Douglas's control, it scuttled back into the trunk.
Seeing the mummy's panicked scramble, Parvati finally broke into giggles.
Douglas sighed. "I'm sorry, Miss Patil. This time, you failed the challenge. The moment you saw the mummy, you forgot it was a Boggart."
Parvati Patil lowered her head, looking a little aggrieved. But she had, indeed, forgotten.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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