The halls of Hogwarts were busy the next morning, students hurrying in every direction with books clutched to their chests or voices carrying in quick conversation. The Gryffindor third-years walked together toward their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Cela kept close to Hermione, both carrying satchels stuffed with textbooks and quills, while Harry and Ron trailed a step behind. The rest of their classmates clustered nearby, talking excitedly about the new professor.
"I heard we've got Professor Lupin today," Ron whispered, trying to peer over a knot of Ravenclaws passing by. "Do you think he'll actually teach us something useful?"
"He must be better than Lockhart," Harry muttered under his breath.
"That's not exactly difficult," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "All Lockhart ever taught us was how to sign his own books. At least Lupin looks like a real professor. Bet he knows actual spells."
Cela giggled softly, hiding it behind her hand. She enjoyed listening to Harry and Ron bicker, especially because Ron's complaints always grew so dramatic. Hermione gave a small huff, but even she seemed curious.
At last they reached the classroom door. The Slytherins were already gathered outside, Malfoy leaning against the stone wall with Crabbe and Goyle standing at his sides. He sneered the moment the Gryffindors appeared. Cela noticed Hermione stiffen, though she kept her gaze fixed forward and said nothing.
The door creaked open, and the students began to file inside. The classroom was dim, its tall windows half-shuttered so that shadows stretched across the stone floor. A single desk stood tidy at the front. Behind it, Professor Remus Lupin rose from his chair with a mild smile. His robes were frayed at the hem and his face looked pale and tired, yet his eyes were gentle, and the quiet calm of his presence reminded Cela of the hush of a library.
"Good morning," he greeted, his voice calm and steady. "Please, put away your quills. Today's lesson will not require them."
The class rustled with excitement. Before anyone could ask questions, a sudden loud cackle rang out. Peeves the poltergeist was swooping down from the ceiling, bouncing chalk off the desks and blowing raspberries.
"Loopy Lupin! Loony, loopy Lupin!" Peeves shrieked, spinning upside down.
Several students giggled, but Lupin only raised his wand with a calm expression.
"This way, Peeves," he said firmly. With a sharp flick, he cast, "Waddiwasi!"
At once, a piece of chalk that had been hurled across the room shot straight back at Peeves, striking him squarely in the nose. Peeves shrieked and spun in midair, clutching his face as he tumbled backward.
"Out you go," Lupin added, flicking his wand again. The poltergeist was propelled toward the open doorway, tumbling head over heels.
"Filthy old dog," Peeves howled as he was driven out. "Spoilsport! Book-borer! I'll have my revenge!" His curses echoed down the corridor until his voice faded away.
The class broke into laughter, but Lupin only smiled faintly and lowered his wand.
"That," he said in a mild voice, "is the Waddiwasi charm. Quite a handy little spell when our friend Peeves tries to make mischief. Rather than let him snatch your belongings or block your path, you can use this to expel whatever he has seized or to send an object flying in just the right direction. Of course, you must use it with focus. The key is to picture the object moving exactly where you want it to go. If your intention is muddled, the charm will fizzle."
He gestured for the class to take out their wands. "Now, repeat after me. Waddiwasi."
"Waddiwasi," the students echoed, some more confident than others.
"Good. Now, remember—steady grip, firm motion, and concentrate on your target. A spell is only as strong as the focus behind it."
Lavender Brown raised her hand shyly. "Thank you, Professor," she said earnestly. "I will practice it. Every time Peeves comes by, he always snatches my books or quills, sometimes even when I am just walking down the corridor. Now I can do something about it."
Lupin inclined his head kindly. "Indeed, Miss Brown. And that is the lesson—magic is not only for duels with dark creatures, but also for making everyday life a little more bearable."
"Thank you again, Professor Lupin!" Lavender Brown called out, while the class burst into relieved chuckles.
Lupin turned back, brushing dust from his sleeve. "Now," he said pleasantly, "let us begin. Can anyone tell me what lives in that wardrobe?"
He pointed to the far end of the room, where an old wardrobe stood against the wall. It rattled faintly, as though something inside was waiting to be let out.
Several hands shot up at once. Hermione's went higher than all the rest, her face alight with eagerness. Lupin nodded to her.
"It is a boggart, Professor," Hermione said promptly. "A shape-shifter that takes the form of whatever the person facing it fears most."
"Excellent, Miss Granger," Lupin said with clear approval. "Ten points to Gryffindor."
Cela glanced at Hermione, who was already beaming with satisfaction, her quill poised as if she were ready to take down every word Lupin had spoken. Cela smiled faintly to herself. Hermione's answers were always precise, and Cela admired her sharp mind, yet in these past two days of lessons together she had noticed something else. Hermione seemed almost desperate to show her knowledge, as though every class were a test not only of learning but of proving herself. Every time a professor asked a question, Hermione's hand flew up before anyone else's. Every explanation she gave was meticulous, almost rehearsed.
Cela thought it was not a bad thing—being diligent was admirable—but she wondered if Hermione ever allowed herself to simply learn without trying to shine. It felt less like curiosity and more like a constant need for recognition. Cela decided it must be part of her nature, this eagerness to prove she was capable, though she could not help but find it a little exhausting to watch.
Still, she reminded herself, Hermione's determination was something to respect. Even if Cela did not quite share that same hunger to impress, she could appreciate how much effort Hermione poured into everything she did.
Lupin continued, pacing slowly before the wardrobe. "The charm that counters a boggart is simple, yet it requires more than wandwork. You must force it to assume a shape that amuses you. Laughter is the greatest weapon against fear."
He turned to the class, eyes bright despite the shadows under them. "The incantation is Riddikulus. Repeat it, please."
"Riddikulus," the class echoed, their voices filling the room.
"Very good," Lupin said. "Now, let us have a demonstration. Mr. Longbottom, would you step forward?"
Neville shuffled forward, pale and trembling. "M-me, Professor?"
"Yes, Neville," Lupin said kindly. "Tell me, what frightens you most?"
Neville's voice wobbled. "P-professor Snape."
A ripple of laughter spread through the room. Even Cela could not suppress a small grin, though she quickly covered her mouth.
"Professor Snape," Lupin repeated, his voice calm but his eyes glinting with amusement. His lips twitched as though he were trying not to smile. "I see. Well then, Neville, here is what I'd like you to do. When the boggart takes on Snape's form, I want you to imagine him wearing your grandmother's clothes."
Neville blinked at him. "M–my grandmother's clothes, Professor?" he stammered.
"Yes, exactly," Lupin said encouragingly. "Think of him in her hat with the stuffed vulture, that long green dress, and—what else was it?"
"My big red handbag," Neville whispered, his cheeks turning pink.
"Perfect," Lupin said warmly. "Now, the trick with a boggart is laughter. The charm is Riddikulus, but what really drives the creature away is how funny you find it. So when Snape appears, you must fix the picture in your mind and let the humor of it give your spell strength. Do you think you can do that?"
Neville swallowed hard, then gave a small nod. "Y–yes, Professor."
"That's the spirit," Lupin said. "Remember, confidence and laughter. Together they are stronger than fear."
The class roared with laughter, and even Neville gave a weak smile.
"Concentrate on that image," Lupin encouraged. "It will give you courage. Ready?"
Neville gave a shaky nod and raised his wand.
The wardrobe shuddered violently. Lupin strode forward and flung open the doors.
With a loud crack, a figure swept out. There stood Professor Snape, black robes billowing, his eyes glittering coldly as he advanced on Neville. Several Gryffindors gasped.
"R… Riddikulus!" Neville squeaked, brandishing his wand.
At once, Snape's robes melted into a monstrous green hat decorated with a stuffed vulture, his frame now draped in a long spotted dress and a crimson handbag dangling from one arm. The sight was so absurd that the room erupted with laughter.
Even Cela doubled over, her sides aching. Hermione had tears in her eyes from giggling.
The boggart recoiled, staggering backward, clearly weakened by the chorus of laughter that filled the classroom.
Professor Lupin clapped his hands together. "Splendid! Well done, Neville. That is exactly how it is done."
The wardrobe rattled again as the boggart tried to retreat. Lupin raised a hand to steady the class.
"Now," he said, smiling, "who will be next?"