The Greatest Fear

The first-year professor had been chased around by the Weasley twins with snowballs.

The second-year professor was all talk and eventually became a literal firework.

At least for now, this new professor could handle Peeves—a feat only fifth or sixth-year students typically managed.

This professor was amazing!

With no interruptions, Lupin led them through the corridors and into the staff lounge.

The room carried an air of age, filled with discarded desks, training dummies, and broken cleaning tools left behind by Filch. Several office desks were crammed into a corner.

Sitting at one of them was Snape. His cold gaze swept over the entering students, lingering especially on Harry and Lupin, as if hoping to uncover some telling expression.

"Professor Snape," Lupin said in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you here. Are you here to observe my first class?"

He waved his wand, intending to close the door.

Snape stood abruptly. "Use that mongrel brain of yours, Lupin. I have no interest in sitting through a comedy routine. I was merely taking a break here."

"Good luck, Lupin," he added as he walked out.

The students instinctively stepped aside to let him pass.

Just as Snape reached the doorway, he paused, turning back with a mocking smile. "Lupin, you should be careful. Ever since Mr. Potter enrolled, no professor has had a happy ending."

"Quirrell was burned into a mindless husk—he's still at St. Mungo's."

"Lockhart exploded so spectacularly that it took a week for the house-elves to clean up the mess."

"Mr. Potter has quite the sense of justice."

Several students bristled in anger.

They had finally gotten a professor who seemed competent, and Snape was cursing his tenure already?

But his words also struck a nerve. Could this year turn out the same as before?

Some students were genuinely worried.

Would this professor eventually leave Hogwarts out of sheer frustration with Snape's venomous tongue? The last person Snape targeted so harshly had been Harry himself.

But this didn't seem like that, right?

Lupin appeared unfazed by Snape's ridicule. With practiced ease, he retorted, "Thank you, but I hear you've always wanted this position. After all these years, your masochistic tendencies haven't changed, have they?"

Snape snorted and strode away, slamming the door shut with a wave of his wand.

"Masochistic?"

The students' eyes lit up at the intriguing word.

They smelled gossip in the air and began chattering excitedly, occasionally glancing back at Harry.

"Alright, settle down," Lupin called, beckoning them to follow him to the other end of the room.

At the far wall stood several two-meter-tall wardrobes. As Lupin approached, one of them began to tremble violently, emitting clattering noises as something inside struggled to burst free.

The students recoiled nervously.

They didn't want to leave class with more psychological scars.

"Don't be afraid," Lupin said, raising his hand. "There's only a Boggart inside."

"The first question: What is a Boggart?"

Hermione's hand shot up.

"Miss Granger," Lupin said, calling on her.

Hermione recited the textbook definition: "A Boggart is a dark magical creature that feeds on fear. It transforms into whatever its target fears most, using this form to scare and feed on them."

"Excellent," Lupin said, waving his wand. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

"The second question: Where are Boggarts usually found?"

A Hufflepuff student raised their hand, eager to compete with Hermione.

"Mr. Macmillan," Lupin said.

The Hufflepuff answered smoothly, "They're usually found in dark, enclosed spaces."

"Very good. Ten points to Hufflepuff."

Placing a hand on the wardrobe's door, Lupin addressed the class: "Today's lesson is one of the most important in Defense Against the Dark Arts—overcoming your own fear."

"Often, dark creatures aren't as terrifying as they seem."

"Even first-year students can defeat a troll."

He glanced at Harry.

Ron muttered, "Yeah, but that was Harry."

The other students nodded in agreement.

"Alright, alright," Lupin said, shaking his head with a smile. "In truth, if you achieve 'Outstanding' in Transfiguration and Charms by the end of this year, you'll be capable of handling a troll."

The students exchanged glances, their expressions growing complicated.

Back then, Harry had only been a first-year, barely a month into school.

The gap between Harry and others felt wider than the gap between humans and pigs.

"So why do so many upper-year students and even adult wizards struggle with trolls?" Lupin posed the question and answered it himself. "Fear. Fear and hesitation lead to failure."

"But you don't need to be afraid. Trust me."

"Besides, while Boggarts are classified as a 3X danger level creature, we have one significant advantage against it right now. Does anyone know what that is?"

Hermione stood on tiptoe, her hand waving eagerly in the air.

But Lupin ignored her, scanning the room until his gaze landed on Neville, who looked like he wanted to speak but lacked the courage to raise his hand.

"Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville froze, his anxiety evident.

"I think you might know the answer," Lupin said gently, his tone soothing.

Neville stammered, "I… I…"

"Take your time," Lupin encouraged. "Say what you're thinking, bit by bit."

"We… there are a lot of us here," Neville finally blurted out, clenching his fists. "The Boggart won't know what to turn into!"

Lupin clapped first. "Excellent! Brilliantly said!"

"Ten points to Gryffindor for Mr. Longbottom's insight!"

The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors applauded enthusiastically for Neville, whose face turned bright red, tears welling up.

But unlike his usual reactions in Potions class, this time his emotions were vastly different.

Lupin continued, "This is why it's best to face a Boggart with a partner—it confuses the creature and causes it to falter."

"I once encountered a Boggart that tried to scare two people at once. It ended up turning into half a slug, which wasn't scary at all."

Hermione murmured, "Half a slug? That's somehow worse than a whole slug."

"The spell for dealing with a Boggart is simple," Lupin explained. "Repeat after me: Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" the students echoed.

"It requires no special wand movement or incantation technique. In fact, in certain situations, you might not even need a wand."

"But it does require determination, emotion, and a steadfast belief in yourself to overcome fear."

"Now, everyone take a step back."

"When I call your name, step forward and face the Boggart. Don't worry—I'm here, and so are your classmates. Nothing will go wrong."

The students obediently stepped back.

"Mr. Longbottom, you're first."

Neville froze.

Lupin spoke kindly, "Don't be afraid. Think of the funniest thing you can imagine."

"When the Boggart comes out, hold onto that thought and say the spell."

Neville nodded nervously.

"Are you ready?" Lupin asked.

Neville nodded again.

Lupin opened the wardrobe.

A menacing Snape stormed out, bearing down on Neville with fury, as if ready to unleash a scathing tirade.

Neville fumbled with his wand.

"Go on, Neville!" Lupin encouraged. "Think of something funny!"

Neville shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and shouted, "Riddikulus!"

Snape hesitated but kept advancing.

"You can do it!" Lupin reassured him, raising his wand but continuing to cheer Neville on.

Neville shook and shouted louder, "Riddikulus!"

With a pop, Snape suddenly had a ginger tabby cat clinging to his face, scratching him ferociously.

The students burst out laughing.

Ron gaped. "Isn't that Crookshanks?"

"Got beaten by a cat?" Lupin mused, finding the sight familiar. He glanced at Ron before calling out, "Next up, Ron Weasley!"

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Powerstones?

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