Chapter 252: Auditing The Boggart
“Before the start of term, my parents went to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for a check-up. The healer who received us was Lady Merlin Strout. She believes that as long as they take their medicine regularly, Father and Mother can recover to become normal people.
“By the way, Professor, Lady Strout asked me to tell you that Professor Lockhart is also recovering well.
“His condition has clearly improved. He reads books and newspapers in the ward every day and practices Obliviate techniques, but he doesn’t believe that he is the same person as the Lockhart in the newspapers. The healers say it’s because he can’t accept his past self.
“She asked me to ask you if you have any way to restore his memory.”
Meeting Neville’s expectant gaze, Melvin shook his head.
The bell had just rung, it was break time. Walking on the steps at the corner of the rotating staircase on the second floor, students hurrying to class occasionally brushed past on the road. Some lowered their heads and hurried away upon seeing the professor, while others stopped to greet him.
Melvin was also a bit puzzled.
This complex aftereffect caused by magical damage is, to some extent, the patient’s way of protecting themselves by actively blocking out those painful memories. Even the healers at St. Mungo’s and Dumbledore’s joint consultation couldn’t find a way.
On the other hand, the Dark Magic expert Riddle had suggested using the Cruciatus Curse to inflict torture, breaking through the barriers of body, mind, and magic power, perhaps to dig out the secrets deep in the memory.
But this method isn’t very reliable, because the Lumbardons themselves were tortured, their pain exceeding the limits of body and mind, leading to thirteen years of mental confusion, confined to a closed ward at St. Mungo’s.
He felt Riddle’s suggestion was unreliable, at least not to be adopted directly.
Neither Melvin nor Neville spoke again. They waited at the corner for a while. The rotating staircase turned to the platform, and the two stepped onto the stone bridge steps. The magical staircase continued to rotate, carrying them toward the opposite attic.
Melvin vaguely grasped something but couldn’t connect them:
“Memory… emotions… soul…”
Exiting the staircase entrance and walking along the corridor, the left corridor was closed off—that was the girls’ bathroom where Moaning Myrtle resided.
The right corridor split into two paths: one leading to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom, with a statue of a one-eyed humpbacked witch at the junction; the other leading to other classrooms, with a suit of brass armor at the junction.
Neville adjusted his schoolbag and was about to turn to bid farewell to Professor Levent when he suddenly saw Hermione coming out from the left corridor.
Carrying a heavy single-strap schoolbag that pressed her shoulder down on one side, with an inconspicuous gold chain around her neck, she walked hurriedly, with water stains on her forehead, as if she had just been to the bathroom, heading straight toward the junction with the brass armor.
“Hermione, Hermione!” Neville hurriedly called to his classmate. “Wrong way, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom is this way.”
Hermione froze for a moment and stopped in place.
“Did two months of summer vacation without classes make you forget the layout of Hogwarts Castle and the location of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom?” Neville couldn’t help laughing. “Good thing you ran into me, or you’d be late for Professor Lupin’s first lesson.”
“I… no…”
Hermione glanced at Professor Levent beside her. He was watching them with a smile in his eyes. The little witch stumbled a bit in her speech. “I’m not going the wrong way. I meant to go this way…”
She was hurrying to Ancient Runes class. Any more delay and she’d really be late.
But she couldn’t tell Neville directly. He’d see another Hermione in Defence Against the Dark Arts later. If classmates noticed something amiss, sparked curiosity, and it led to questions about the Time-Turner, that would be trouble.
She had promised Professor McGonagall.
Just as the little witch was dithering in place, unsure how to bluff her way out, Melvin spoke up beside her: “Hermione has something else to do. I have a reading list that needs her help organizing. It won’t take too long. You go to the classroom first, Neville.”
“But…”
“I won’t let her be late.”
“Alright then.”
Neville headed to the junction but still worried, looking back at them several times.
Melvin found it somewhat amusing. Third-year students completely didn’t know how to lie or cover up. He wondered how previous years’ students had kept the Time-Turner secret.
Hermione quietly gauged his expression and saw he had no intention of prying, so she asked curiously: “Professor, do you know… about the Time-Turner?”
“What Time-Turner? I don’t know.”
“…”
“Morning classes are packed with a short break. Why not go to the classroom early?” Melvin and the little witch walked along the other corridor as he asked casually. “Dragging it out to now, the corridors are full of students. A bit later and you’d run into Harry and Ron too.”
“I didn’t want to be this rushed either. There was an incident on the way.”
Hermione adjusted her single-strap schoolbag and sighed under the weight of heavy coursework. “Professor Snape was moving a magical wardrobe from upstairs to the staff room, with Peeves causing trouble nearby. I had to hide in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and ended up running into Myrtle too.”
“Magical wardrobe? What kind of magical wardrobe?” Melvin stopped outside the Runic classroom and looked down at the girl.
Hermione spread her hands: “I don’t know either. I only saw the wardrobe moving, clanging and banging, like something was locked inside. They said it’s for Professor Lupin’s class.”
“Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching aid…” Melvin pondered as he left.
Hermione entered the classroom and sat in the front row, pulling out the brilliant necklace from her collar, her expression complex and inscrutable.
…
The staff room was a long great hall piled with mismatched old chairs. Against the walls were several old wardrobes where professors and students stored special robes, like Professor Sprout’s gardening outfit and Madam Hooch’s windproof hat for flying lessons.
Melvin stood guard by an old wardrobe, in the center of the staff room, watching Professor Lupin lead a class of students approach. He stepped aside from the middle space to the armchair against the wall. This low chair was dust-free.
Lupin had a gentle smile on his face and stood in front of the students: “Professor McGonagall told me Professor Snape helped me transport the teaching aid.”
“Yes, Professor Snape was there when I arrived, but he thought one professor was enough to watch it. He handed it over to me and went back to his office.”
Melvin stepped slightly aside, revealing the old wardrobe behind him. “I happened to learn that Professor Lupin would use this teaching aid to start the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson and got curious about what’s inside, so I came to observe.”
“If it’s just observing, I’m very happy. But if Professor McGonagall specially sent you to scrutinize whether I’m fit for the job, then I’ll have to teach with the door closed.”
Lupin looked at the young professor’s black eyes. His impression of Melvin was quite good. Though the previous two years’ Defence Against the Dark Arts professors had all failed under him, they deserved it. This professor hadn’t listened to Snape’s provocations and had a good reputation among students and staff.
Melvin stepped to the students’ side, indicating he was just observing.
Lupin ignored the little wizards making funny faces and didn’t waste more time. He went straight to the wardrobe and began the lesson: “I believe you’re all curious what treasure is inside to attract Professor Levent to observe?”
The wardrobe suddenly shook, its back slamming against the wall with banging sounds.
Several timid students trembled. The boys craned their necks to peer into the narrow gap, while the girls shrank back slightly. Lavender and Parvati even scooted closer to Melvin.
Lupin found it amusing: “No need to worry. There’s a Boggart inside.
“Boggarts like dark enclosed spaces, often hiding in wardrobes, under beds, and in sinks… The first problem we encounter this lesson is, what exactly is a Boggart?”
Wandering around taking odd jobs was tough, but the benefits showed now. Dealing with various employers, bosses, and customers at work translated to communicating with students. Lupin easily caught the students’ expressions and drew their attention with his words.
「Boggarts usually hide in dark narrow spaces and have the ability to sense human fears and transform into corresponding forms; their true form is unknown. Muggles may sense Boggarts’ presence but often dismiss them as illusions.」
The dry, simple description in the book came alive through Lupin’s examples, descriptions, and Q&A, captivating the students.
Melvin found observing interesting too, especially with students interacting nearby, whispering to him during class. When Hermione answered questions, Lavender and Parvati asked him about Boggarts beside him, gasping at the terrifying cases.
Neville gasped along. Though he’d overcome his inferiority complex and cowardice, he was still somewhat timid and wanted to conquer it, peeking into the wardrobe with his neck shrunk.
Trying to glimpse the Boggart’s true form through a thumb-sized gap.
Melvin sat by the armchair, leaning against the wall to listen, respecting class order and not responding to Lavender and the others.
Up front, Lupin had begun introducing the Boggart’s weakness: when facing multiple wizards at once, it often doesn’t know what to turn into, confused by chaotic thoughts, ending up as a shapeless object that scares no one.
Then came the special effect spell against Boggarts: the spell is Riddikulus, with a very basic casting motion that third-year students could mostly master.
When the students had practiced enough, Lupin called for a volunteer to demonstrate. He didn’t pick Hermione with her hand raised high but the one with a somewhat dazed expression.
“Good, Neville. First thing, tell me your greatest fear in the world?”
Neville mumbled for a moment and uttered an unexpected name: “Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Many students looked puzzled. Only a few had heard the name, like Draco from Slytherin, whose face was grave, brows furrowed.
The observing Melvin remained calm. This answer was no surprise.
Shedding his timid and inferior personality, growing into half a leader in the Drama Club, and after last lesson’s talk on teacher-student expectations and prophecy, Neville could naturally shake off Snape’s shadow.
Compared to the Potions professor at school, the Death Eater who tortured his parents to insanity and destroyed the entire Lumbardon family was the true fear in his heart.
“Bellatrix…”
Lupin paused. Students fearing Death Eaters was reasonable but tricky. He had to guide Neville to dispel it with humor.
“Neville, have you ever seen Bellatrix?”
“Oh, I’ve seen her in the newspapers.”
“The Daily Prophet photos, probably from when she was captured and on trial…” Lupin slowed his tone, thinking of a way to handle it. “Are there other memorable people in your life? Ones who act ridiculously funny, without any dignity.”
“Professor Lockhart from last term?”
“I’ve heard his name. What exactly about him is ridiculously funny?”
Neville frowned in recall: “He always wore exaggerated flashy clothes regardless of occasion, boasted, bragged about achievements that weren’t his, made jokes when demonstrating magic. Now he’s in a closed ward at St. Mungo’s practicing his signature but refuses to admit he’s Lockhart.”
“Always seeking the spotlight but always making a fool of himself.”
Lupin smiled in summary. “I don’t know this Mr. Lockhart. Perhaps you can think of other funny things, imagine them on Bellatrix.”
Students below already recalled Lockhart’s antics and let out scornful chuckles.
Fleeing from Cornish pixies, knocked down by Snape’s spell in the Dueling Club unable to get up, removing Harry’s arm bone after Quidditch, knocking himself out facing the Basilisk, trying to claim credit but backfired by his own Obliviate.
“Lockhart… Bellatrix…” Neville murmured the two names.
Neither Melvin nor Lupin spoke, waiting quietly beside him with calm expressions, no impatience.
Teaching students was this slow.
The room was quiet. Neville prepared mentally for a long time. Other students used the time to think of their own fears and overlay funny memories onto them to conquer the fear.
There was an open space in front of the old wardrobe, originally where students stood to listen. Under Lupin’s indication, it slowly cleared into a stage in the staff room. Melvin stood beside Lupin like professor and assistant teacher.
Neville stood alone in front of the wardrobe, rolling up his robe sleeves, his hand gripping the wand turning white from the force.
The demonstration officially began.
Lupin cast a spell shooting sparks; the wardrobe opened, and a grim-faced witch emerged—disheveled black hair, heavy eyelids and thin lips, sunken cheeks, withered features faintly showing traces of past beauty but mostly vicious and sinister.
Her eyes shot fierce glares, licking her lips like a beast eyeing prey.
「Riddi… Riddikulus」
Neville shouted somewhat stumblingly.
A crisp snap like a whip crack; Bellatrix staggered slightly, suddenly clad in a purple-red robe, her cheeks forcibly grinning into a brilliant smile, a purple headscarf wrapped around her head.
“That’s Quirrell’s headscarf!”
Laughter erupted from the students.
The Boggart froze in place, flustered, burying its head to dodge the laughter.
Just as the demonstration went smoothly and Lupin was about to switch, someone suddenly said: “Isn’t the Dark Lord hiding in Quirrell’s scarf?”
Lupin’s face changed. He turned to Neville, whose face had gone deathly pale.
The Bellatrix in the staff room suddenly lifted her head, as if replaced by another person. Her face still bore the brilliant smile, but when she licked her lips it was like a viper flicking its tongue, crimson and cruel, chilling to the bone.
