At the welcome feast attended by all years, Professor Dumbledore announced that Dementors were stationed to guard the castle's perimeter and urged the students to exercise caution. Malfoy had the distinct impression that Professor Dumbledore held a profound distaste for Dementors. Some old grievance, perhaps. The mere fact that Dumbledore—a man who rarely let his true feelings show—had allowed that much to surface was remarkable in itself.
The three newly appointed professors this year were Sybill Trelawney, Remus Lupin, and Rubeus Hagrid. All of them were penniless and undignified, and the only one who could arguably be called a competent professor was Lupin. Truthfully, had it not been for his composed handling of the situation on the Hogwarts Express, Malfoy would have dismissed all three without a second thought.
The first class was Professor Lupin's Defence Against the Dark Arts. The Slytherin students made their way to the classroom in a noisy, chattering cluster.
"That's the pauper professor, isn't it?"
"Honestly. The way he dresses, he's barely better than a beggar. I wonder if he can even afford a wand."
"Dumbledore must have hired him as part of some charity scheme for impoverished wizards."
Carina Malfoy, who would ordinarily have sided with them in her own understated way, held her tongue today. Dementors were the guards of Azkaban—and extraordinarily dangerous magical creatures at that. If this man knew how to deal with them, his lectures might be worth attending.
*At the very least, he can't be worse than that stammering Quirrell or that blustering fraud Gilderoy Lockhart.*
Once all the students had settled into their seats, Professor Lupin finally entered the classroom, carrying a battered briefcase. Whether it was the decent meals Hogwarts had afforded him, his face looked healthier than it had the day before.
"Hello, everyone. I'll skip the introductions. Today we'll be doing practical work. Everyone, please take out your wands—nothing else."
The instruction to draw their wands put even the Slytherin students on edge. Practical work immediately conjured memories of Gilderoy Lockhart's disastrous lessons last year. Malfoy was just beginning to furrow her brow at the thought of that chaos repeating itself when Professor Lupin gave his wand a wave and stepped out of the classroom.
"Now, everyone follow me!"
Professor Lupin led the students to the staff room. Bewildered but obedient, they trailed after him like a row of ducklings.
When the door swung open, the staff room greeted them in a state as shabby as its new occupant—and at its centre stood a single battered wardrobe.
"Now then. Inside that wardrobe is a Boggart."
As Professor Lupin approached, the wardrobe began to shudder and rattle before toppling with a heavy thud into the middle of the room.
"Today's lesson is the Boggart. Does anyone know what a Boggart is?"
"A Boggart is a magical creature that favours dark, confined spaces. It transforms into whatever its target fears most."
Malfoy answered without bothering to raise her hand.
She enjoyed displaying her knowledge. But she had no wish to appear as though she were doing it for something as trivial as house points—so she had always made a habit of simply stating the answer, hand firmly at her side. A few professors had taken issue with that manner, but Professor Lupin didn't seem to be the rigid sort.
"Well done, Miss Malfoy. Inside that wardrobe is a Boggart without form. Since it doesn't yet know what any of you fear, it will have taken no shape—but the moment someone stands before it, it will transform into whatever frightens them most."
The method for dealing with a Boggart was, at its core, a single principle: do not fear it, and do not flinch.
"Which is why facing it in a group is the most fundamental approach. If a Boggart has more than one person to frighten, it becomes confused about which form to take. There was once a Boggart that couldn't decide between a headless corpse and a giant slug—and ended up as a half-slug in a desperate attempt to terrify both at once. Needless to say, it wasn't frightening in the least."
If circumstances forced one to face a Boggart alone, however, the options were either to conquer the fear from within, or to use the Riddikulus charm to transform it into something absurd. Professor Lupin had the Slytherin students practise the incantation.
"Now, everyone think of the thing that frightens or unsettles you most. Then picture the most ridiculous version of it you can imagine. If you do it properly, the Riddikulus charm will strip that fear of all its power. Ready? Pansy, you're first!"
Pansy Parkinson's greatest fear was a giant squid. When Parkinson cried "*Riddikulus!*", the squid's tentacles shrivelled and crisped until they were nothing but a plate of buttered calamari.
Next was Gray Goyle. The Boggart shifted into a malevolent pixie the moment it faced her. Just as the pixie lunged into the air, Goyle flicked her wand and its wings snapped clean off, sending them rolling across the floor.
It was rather unfortunate for Barnette Crabbe, but what she feared most was the sight of herself grown fat. As everyone stared at the plump figure before her, Crabbe flushed crimson and couldn't manage to raise her wand properly.
"Step back, Crabbe!"
*What good does it do to be ashamed of your past self?* Malfoy exhaled quietly and stepped forward, intending to help.
In the meantime, Professor Lupin guided Crabbe back. Satisfied that she was clear, Malfoy turned to face the Boggart and tightened her grip on her wand.
What would appear? She herself didn't know. Because the flawless Carina Malfoy had no fears.
Whatever emerged from that wardrobe, it could not break her pride. No matter how startling the form it took, Malfoy would not lose her composure.
If anything, she was curious. What shape would the Boggart take before her?
Malfoy kept her chin lifted and watched as the Boggart began to transform.
The plump Crabbe spun once in the air.
*Whoosh.* A wizard appeared, cloaked in dark robes. The hood obscured the face entirely; only a slender silhouette was discernible beneath the fabric.
*What is this?* Malfoy had never so much as glimpsed the shadow of such a suspicious figure. She wondered whether the vague, indistinct form had appeared precisely because she had no fears—the Boggart left with nothing concrete to work with.
The reason she hesitated with her wand raised was simply that she couldn't decide what alteration would make the figure look sufficiently ridiculous.
*I'll strip the robes off and make it bow its head. That ought to do it.* She was lifting her wand with that thought in mind when—
Malfoy met his eyes.
Pale skin. A cold, expressionless face. And a vicious smile.
Malfoy felt, inexplicably, that he resembled Harry Potter...
At that moment, Professor Lupin stepped in.
"Stand aside, Malfoy! Riddikulus!"
A flash of moonlight through clouds blazed for an instant, then burst apart like a firework. Dozens of sparks crackled and bloomed, and the students let out a cheer. Professor Lupin ushered the Boggart back into the wardrobe and turned to address the class.
"Right, that's enough for today! You all handled yourselves admirably. Five points to each of you for facing your fears and overcoming the Boggart!"
Malfoy stared down at her own hand, hollow with dissatisfaction.
*Why hadn't she moved?*
And more to the point—*why had Harry Potter appeared?* Was it because of the blackmail over the diary?
Surely not.
She had been blackmailed, yes. She had agreed to cooperate in order to keep her secret. But that was an entirely separate matter.
The trueborn daughter of the Malfoy line, paralysed by something as base as fear—the very notion was absurd.
Malfoy turned to Professor Lupin.
"I can't accept the points. I didn't defeat the Boggart."
"You stepped forward immediately when Barnette hesitated. That's more than enough. The most effective way to face a Boggart is, after all, to face it alongside someone else."
Professor Lupin's reply did nothing to satisfy her. Malfoy fixed the now-empty wardrobe with a look of lingering displeasure.
"Very well, everyone. Excellent work today. For homework, read the relevant chapter on Boggarts and write a summary. Due Monday. That's all."
Then, as though the thought had just occurred to him, he turned toward Malfoy.
"Ah—Malfoy, would you stay behind? I'd like a word."
The students filed out in animated clusters. Crabbe and Goyle moved to wait for Malfoy, but she waved them on ahead.
When the last student had gone, only the two of them remained in the staff room. Professor Lupin drew up two chairs.
"Sit down. I'd like to talk about your Boggart."
"How convenient. I'd like to talk about it as well."
Malfoy settled into the chair he had brought as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Professor Lupin sat down across from her and chose his words carefully.
"In my view, the figure inside those robes was... Harry Potter. Am I right?"
"Yes. But I don't fear him. He's an irritant, at most."
Had she truly feared Harry, she would never have gone to find him when she heard his voice on the Hogwarts Express. The diary and everything surrounding it made things awkward, certainly—but she was not afraid of him.
Though she did, it must be said, dislike Harry Potter intensely.
"The Boggart must have malfunctioned."
"Yes. I thought the same. If it were truly Harry Potter, he would never wear robes like that. But—please don't take this the wrong way. When I first saw that figure, my immediate impression wasn't Harry so much as... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
A jolt.
Even Malfoy couldn't suppress the flinch that came with that name being spoken aloud.
If there was any being in the world capable of stripping everything from Carina Malfoy—her family, her wealth, her power, her standing, her reason and her sense of self, her friends—even the life of her rival Harry Potter—it was, without question, the Dark Lord.
That such a being might be her deepest fear was not, when she considered it, so strange at all.
"...You're suggesting I'm afraid of a wizard who vanished before I was born? Hardly. I don't even know what he looks like."
"Precisely. Because the fear is formless, the Boggart couldn't settle on a clear shape. So it borrowed the face of the person you find most... uncomfortable—Harry Potter. Given what happened last year, that's not so difficult to understand."
Last year, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, Harry Potter had come under suspicion of being the Heir of Slytherin.
Between the atrocities that had made even Slytherins recoil and the fact that he could speak Parseltongue, the suspicion had been natural enough. Even Malfoy had entertained the thought, however briefly.
Well—Harry Potter had declared that if anyone wished to call him the Heir of Slytherin, every Slytherin student would have to kneel at his feet, which had led to the rather absurd situation of Malfoy defending him simply because she had no intention of kneeling before Harry Potter.
But once Malfoy had learned the truth about the diary, Harry Potter had told her everything.
"Do you happen to know something—about Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
Professor Lupin asked. Malfoy lifted her chin a fraction higher to conceal her unease.
She had stumbled into knowing rather more than she should. That Harry Potter was hunting Horcruxes. That if the existence of the diary came to light, Malfoy herself would be in danger.
But that was a secret between Harry Potter and Malfoy alone. Speaking of it would put her at risk.
Until she could trust Professor Lupin completely, she could not say a word.
"Nothing comes to mind. As you said, I simply dislike Harry Potter so intensely that his face appeared. That's all."
"Is that so?"
Professor Lupin nodded and rose from his chair.
"In that case, would you show me that you can defeat the Boggart? If I can see you overcome that fear, I'll rest considerably easier."
"Fine. I'll show you that something so trivial poses absolutely no difficulty for me."
A formless fear. In some ways, it was the most insignificant kind—like being afraid of the dark. No concrete substance, only one's own dread feeding on itself and growing.
Malfoy had been momentarily thrown by the Boggart, nothing more. She had not been frightened. And now that she understood the nature of her fear, she was even less so.
"Ready... begin!"
Professor Lupin opened the wardrobe door. The figure in the dark robes—wearing Harry Potter's face—turned toward Malfoy with a savage smile.
"*Riddikulus!*"
Malfoy swept her wand through the air, and the figure changed. The heavy robes vanished; the glasses flew off. Harry Potter now stood before her dressed in a tailcoat suit, the sort one might wear to a formal party—utterly incongruous with everything she knew of him.
Malfoy narrowed her eyes and settled back into her chair with an air of composure.
"Hmph. That's marginally more presentable—*ugh?!*"
The tailcoat-clad Potter abruptly seized her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. The sudden contact made Malfoy recoil with a sharp gasp, wrenching her hand away.
"Wait, what—?!"
Undeterred, the tailcoat Potter reached for her hand again and kissed it a second time. His manner was precisely that of someone requesting a dance.
It was only then that Malfoy understood what the Boggart wearing Harry Potter's face was doing. She had dressed it in a tailcoat to make it look ridiculous, and now it was behaving as though it had arrived at a formal ball.
She raised her wand again.
"*Riddikulus!*"
This time, Harry Potter appeared in a butler's uniform and bowed deeply before her. Malfoy was just beginning to exhale in relief when the butler-Potter dropped to one knee at her feet and began removing her shoe.
"What—?"
By the time she registered what was happening, the butler-Potter had already peeled off her long stocking as well. He folded it neatly to one side and began to massage her foot.
"*Hah—?!*"
To make matters worse, the butler-Potter was remarkably skilled at it. Skilled enough that sounds escaped Malfoy's lips entirely against her will.
"Ngh—*hah*—what on earth is this—"
"I suppose that's your idea of what a butler does."
"I understand, now please get it off me!"
Professor Lupin smiled with an expression of profound, unhurried warmth.
"So it wasn't Harry you feared—it was his manner. Has he ever truly frightened you in some significant way?"
"Stop acting like you know everything—*ngh*—and do something—*hff*—*please!*"
"I'm rather relieved, I must say. It's a troubling thing, to be someone else's fear—I had actually been wondering whether I ought to keep Harry away from you. But it seems there's no real cause for concern. If it's a matter of manner, that's something Harry will have to work through himself."
"*Please!*"
Five minutes later, Malfoy emerged from the staff room on unsteady legs.
*This is entirely Harry Potter's fault...*
Nursing a fresh and entirely unwarranted resentment toward Harry Potter, Carina Malfoy made her way to her next class.