╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐸𝐿𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ ʀɪᴅᴅɪᴋᴜʟᴜs ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

DADA Classroom
( October, 1993. )

                 𝓣he Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with anticipation as the students stood in a loose semicircle, their eyes fixed on the rattling wardrobe at the front of the room. Professor Lupin paced before it with an air of calm confidence, his wand loosely in hand.

"Intriguing, isn't it?" he began, his voice carrying easily over the murmur of the students. "Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what is inside?"

Dean Thomas raised his hand quickly. "That's a boggart, that is," he said.

"Very good, Mr. Thomas," Lupin replied with an approving nod. "Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart looks like?"

Hermione's hand shot up as usual. Without waiting to be called on, she said, "No one knows."

Ron leaned toward Harry and muttered under his breath, "When did she get here?"

Hermione ignored him, continuing, "Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the form of whatever a person fears most. That's what makes them so—"

"So terrifying," Lupin finished, gesturing to her with a small smile. "Yes, exactly. Luckily for us, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Repeat after me: Riddikulus."

A chorus of voices echoed back, some confident, others uncertain.

"Very good," Lupin encouraged. "A little louder, and very clear. Listen. Riddikulus."

"Riddikulus!" the class repeated, their voices more confident this time.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "This class is ridiculous," he muttered, just loud enough for the students around him to hear.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said without missing a beat, his tone light but pointed. "Now, so much for the easy part. The incantation alone is not enough. What truly finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to take a shape you find amusing. Let me explain. Mr. Longbottom—would you join me, please?"

Neville hesitated, his face turning pink as the entire class turned to look at him.

"Come on, don't be shy," Lupin encouraged, his tone gentle.

Neville shuffled forward, clutching his wand nervously.

"Hello, Neville," Lupin said with a kind smile. "What frightens you most of all?"

Neville stammered something inaudible.

"Sorry?"

"Professor Snape," Neville admitted in a small voice, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the class.

"Professor Snape?" Lupin chuckled. "Yes, frightens all. And I believe you live with your grandmother, do you not?"

Neville nodded quickly, his eyes wide.

"But I don't want the boggart to turn into her either," Neville added hastily.

"Of course not," Lupin said. "Here's what we'll do. Picture your grandmother's clothes—only her clothes—very clearly in your mind. Can you do that?"

Neville nodded again. "She carries a red handbag," he added earnestly.

"Good. We don't need to hear all the details, as long as you see it. Now, when I open the wardrobe, I want you to imagine Professor Snape in those clothes. Can you do that?"

Neville nodded once more, his grip tightening on his wand.

"Excellent. Wand at the ready. One... two... three."

Lupin unlocked the wardrobe, and the door creaked open. A moment later, a towering figure in dark robes and a sneer stepped out: Professor Snape, his presence as menacing as ever. Neville froze for a split second before raising his wand.

"R-Riddikulus!" he stammered.

In an instant, Snape's robes morphed into a green, fur-lined coat, topped with a bird hat and accompanied by a bright red handbag. The class erupted into laughter as the boggart stumbled, looking utterly ridiculous.

"Wonderful, Neville, wonderful!" Lupin exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Incredible work. To the back now. Everyone, form a line!"

The students jostled into place, their excitement building. One by one, they faced the boggart, each transforming it into something laughable.

"Lestrange!" Lupin called after Ron had sent a spider skidding across the floor in roller skates.

Esme stepped forward reluctantly, her wand in hand. Her stomach churned with unease, but she forced herself to remain calm.

"Show us what you see," Lupin said gently, gesturing toward the boggart.

The wardrobe creaked open again, and the boggart shifted, its form becoming more defined. Esme's breath caught in her throat as the image solidified: two figures in dark, hooded robes, their faces obscured by gleaming silver masks. Death Eaters.

No one else seemed to recognize them, but Esme's heart pounded as she stared at the figures.

She knew that blonde hair they both shared.

She knew the way the taller one held himself, the curve of his shoulders.

It was her. And Draco.

She felt frozen, her wand trembling in her hand.

"Lestrange," Lupin prompted softly.

Swallowing hard, Esme raised her wand. "Riddikulus!" she shouted.

The Death Eaters stumbled, their masks suddenly replaced with clown noses and oversized, floppy hats. The class burst into laughter, but Esme's heart continued to race as she stepped back into the line, her mind reeling.

Lupin smiled at her approvingly. "Excellent, Miss Lestrange. Well done."

Esme nodded faintly, her face carefully neutral. But as she returned to her place among the Slytherins, she couldn't shake the image from her mind—or the fear it had stirred deep within her.

Draco's sharp eyes narrowed as he observed Esme, her composed exterior fraying at the edges. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Your parents?" he asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

Esme shook her head, her gaze darting away before she hesitated and finally met his eyes. "No," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Us."

Draco blinked, stunned. The implication of her words hit him like a weight. His breath caught, and for a moment, the ever-composed Malfoy was at a loss for words.

Before he could respond, a sudden commotion near the front of the room snapped their attention forward.

"Harry!" Professor Lupin's voice rang out sharply as he stepped in front of the trembling Gryffindor.

The boggart in front of Harry had shifted, now resembling a towering dementor, its skeletal hands reaching toward him. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and an unnatural silence fell over the students as Harry stood frozen, his wand shaking.

Lupin moved swiftly, raising his wand and positioning himself between Harry and the boggart. The dark, cloaked figure warped and twisted until it transformed into a glowing full moon.

The professor's face tightened, his voice firm as he cast, "Riddikulus!"

The moon flickered for a moment before bursting into a balloon, which floated harmlessly to the ground. Lupin quickly waved his wand, forcing the boggart back into the cabinet and locking it securely.

He turned back to the class, his usual calm demeanor returning, though his voice was slightly strained. "Right, well, sorry about that. Uh, that's enough for today. If you'd like to collect your books from the back of the class, that's the end of the lesson. Thank you."

The students groaned in protest, disappointed the lesson had been cut short, but began gathering their belongings.

Draco turned back to Esme, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "Hey, let's talk about—"

"No," she interrupted sharply, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I need to talk to Potter."

Draco's brows furrowed, and his tone hardened. "Potter? About what?"

"None of your business, Draco," Esme snapped, her clipped tone leaving no room for argument.

Draco blinked, momentarily taken aback by her sharpness, but before he could muster a reply, she turned on her heel and strode out of the classroom, leaving him standing there in stunned silence.