Chapter 96
Fear was an emotion—much like pain.
It served a purpose. It warned people away from danger. Aside from instinctive disgust, fear usually existed because something had left behind a bad memory, a wound that lingered in the mind or the body.
Malfoy had never approved of using Boggarts as a way to "overcome" fear.
Take Neville, for instance. He was terrified of Snape. Yet no matter how unpleasant Snape was, he was still a Hogwarts professor. No matter how ugly or exaggerated the Boggart's illusion became, everyone could laugh.
Because even if Snape were truly standing there, the worst he would do was scold them and deduct a few points.
But what if the fear took the shape of Voldemort?
Even if he were dressed in a ridiculous lace-trimmed gown, topped with a tall hat crowned by a moth-eaten stuffed eagle, swinging a gaudy scarlet handbag—looking exactly like Neville's grandmother—
So what?
No matter how absurd the disguise, he would still be the Dark Lord whose name made people tremble.
If one trained their courage only against a fake, who could remain calm when facing the real thing?
Fear could weaken willpower—but it could also sharpen caution.
To fear, and to revere, was not necessarily wrong.
Of course, in cases like Neville's, or fears born from childhood trauma like Ron's, Boggarts were still effective. There was little risk there.
Malfoy watched quietly as students stepped forward one by one, then returned to their seats.
Their fears were varied.
Venomous snakes—Slytherins, no doubt.
Towering spiders.
Bandage-wrapped mummies.
Some even faced their own parents.
When the Boggart appeared before Crabbe and Goyle, it transformed into last semester's final exam papers.
The classroom erupted in laughter.
Even Remus Lupin rubbed his chin and joked, "It seems last year's exams were truly terrifying. I'll make a suggestion to Professor Dumbledore to keep this year's difficulty under control."
Applause followed.
"Draco, you're up."
A tall, thin boy stepped aside, grinning proudly. Moments earlier, he had turned a shrieking female ghost into an exhausted beetle, earning enthusiastic cheers.
Whispers spread instantly.
"What do you think Malfoy's afraid of?"
As one of Slytherin's most talked-about students, curiosity about him was inevitable.
The beetle left behind by the previous student suddenly began to swell and rise. Its shape distorted. A black cloak formed—ragged and torn. Beneath it stretched a pair of scabbed, skeletal hands, followed by a decayed, hollow face.
"Dementor!"
Several students screamed. The memory of the train ride was still fresh.
What they didn't notice was Lupin's brows knitting tightly together.
It was normal for students to fear Dementors. Even Harry struggled with them. But Malfoy was different. Lupin clearly remembered the Patronus Malfoy had cast on the train.
That contradiction unsettled him.
According to Dumbledore, this boy might be the most exceptional student Hogwarts had seen in years.
"…I suppose," Malfoy said calmly, studying the Boggart-Dementor, "I've realized these things aren't all that frightening anymore."
He snapped his fingers, smiling faintly.
"Riddikulus."
The Boggart didn't transform.
Instead, it retained the Dementor's shape—and then dispersed, dissolving into wisps of smoke that vanished into the air.
Silence fell.
Then thunderous applause broke out.
Unlike the others, Malfoy hadn't reshaped the Boggart into something ridiculous. He had simply erased it.
It was a quiet declaration: fear acknowledged, then dismissed—without crutches.
"Professor," Malfoy said at once, turning to Lupin with a polite bow, "I apologize. I'll find another Boggart before your next lesson. It seems I misjudged the spell's intensity."
"No need to apologize," Lupin replied, a rare spark in his eyes. "That shows excellent control. Ten points to Slytherin."
His smile lingered longer than usual.
This student wasn't nearly as compliant as he appeared. Lupin was almost certain Malfoy's performance had been deliberate. The feeling it gave him was… strangely familiar.
Still, he wasn't angry.
"Return to your seat."
"Thank you for your understanding," Malfoy said, stepping past him.
As he passed, he paused for the briefest moment.
Lupin's face drained of color—only for him to recover instantly, as though nothing had happened.
"What did you say to the professor?" Pansy asked the moment Malfoy sat down.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised by her sharpness. He didn't answer directly.
"I just asked him what he's most afraid of," he said instead. "Aren't you curious?"
"…Really?" Pansy eyed Lupin suspiciously. After a second, she raised her hand.
"Yes?" Lupin said pleasantly.
"Professor," Pansy asked bluntly, "what would a Boggart turn into in front of you?"
"That's… a very direct question," Lupin said with a chuckle. "I'm afraid I can't answer. A teacher should retain at least a little dignity in front of students. Perhaps I'll tell you on the day I leave Hogwarts."
Disappointed murmurs spread.
Then he added lightly, "If someone ever gifted me a Boggart as a prank, I'd probably be scared senseless."
"With the Boggart dealt with," Lupin continued, "read the chapter on Boggarts in your textbook. Submit a summary by Tuesday."
"This lesson is officially over. You may study independently for the remaining time."
Pansy turned to Malfoy, pouting. "His expression was different when I asked him—compared to when you did."
"He'd already prepared himself after my question," Malfoy replied evenly. "It'd be strange if he reacted again."
"Tch. Same old evasive answer," Pansy muttered, sticking her tongue out at him before burying herself in her book.
When the bell rang, they packed up and headed out.
Just as Malfoy reached the doorway, Pansy's voice came softly from behind.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For destroying the Boggart."
"That was just poor control," he replied casually.
"Who are you trying to fool?" Pansy shot him a sharp look.
Malfoy could only shake his head, helpless.