Dumbledore fell silent.
That silence lasted until they reached the middle of the field.
At a moment like this, Sean understood that before love, saints and ordinary people were no different; the greatest wizard in the magical world was no different from a Muggle.
"Let's do it here. Our first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
Hard to imagine I still have students left to teach. It's a responsibility I find rather exciting…"
Dumbledore said, looking once more like the kind old wizard Sean knew.
He waved his wand and conjured an old wardrobe.
Dumbledore walked over and stood beside it. The wardrobe suddenly began to shake, slamming itself against the wall with heavy thuds.
"Do you know what's inside?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"I think there's a Boggart in there," Sean answered.
"Yes, exactly. Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Dumbledore said, slipping naturally into the tone of a teacher giving a lesson. "Wardrobes, the gaps under beds, the cabinet beneath a sink… Now then, my first question for you: what is a Boggart?"
"It's something that transforms. It becomes whatever it thinks will frighten us the most."
Sean's voice grew quieter as he spoke. The whole thing was starting to feel unbearably cruel.
"Yes. I don't think I could put it any more clearly myself," Dumbledore said. "So the Boggart inside that dark wardrobe doesn't yet have a definite shape. It doesn't know what the person outside the door fears. No one knows what a Boggart looks like when it's alone, but the moment I let it out, it will become whatever each of us fears most. Which means,"
Dumbledore went on,
"we have a great advantage when facing a Boggart. Sean, have you noticed what that advantage is?"
"Yes, Professor. Because there are two of us, it won't know what shape to take."
"Exactly right."
Dumbledore nodded.
"When dealing with a Boggart, it's best to have company.
That way, you confuse it:
Should it become a headless skeleton, or a flesh-eating slug?
I once saw a Boggart make exactly that mistake. It tried to scare two people at once and ended up turning into half a slug. Not frightening in the slightest.
The spell to drive off a Boggart is very simple, but it requires a strong will.
You must understand, what truly defeats a Boggart is laughter. What we need is to force it into a form we find ridiculous.
Now I'll teach you the spell. Repeat after me… Riddikulus!"
Dumbledore missed this feeling.
A long time ago, his students had been Newt and Leta.
Not so long ago, they had been James, Lily, and Severus.
Now, his student was Sean Green… and he liked this student very much. Sometimes, in him, Dumbledore saw the things he cherished most.
"Riddikulus!"
Sean adapted easily to Dumbledore's sudden instruction.
"Very good. Now let's try it. Step back a little, Sean."
Sean moved to the side of the wardrobe, leaving Dumbledore standing alone before it.
A shower of sparks shot from Dumbledore's wand tip and struck the round doorknob.
The wardrobe doors flew open.
But no monster came bursting out.
Instead, there stood a gentle-looking, bewildered young witch, timid and lovely.
The moment Dumbledore saw her, he turned his face away. Sean immediately drew his wand, and the wardrobe doors snapped shut again.
"You don't need to do this."
Sean frowned.
He had guessed from the beginning how the old wizard meant to show him Ariana.
Through Dumbledore's greatest fear. Through his Boggart. Through his dead sister, Ariana.
"Oh, it's all right…"
Dumbledore sat down on the grass, his beard still trembling slightly.
"Come sit here, child. Let me tell you a story."
The wind blew softly. Clouds rolled lazily over the fields.
"There was once a wizard we all ought to look down on.
His sister was attacked by Muggles because she accidentally showed magic.
That attack left her mind terribly unstable, unable to control her power.
His father was furious, took revenge by cursing those Muggle boys, and was arrested for it.
He died in Azkaban.
And what about him? He was gifted. One has to admit, he was brilliant. And so he wanted to escape. He wanted to become extraordinary. He wanted to shine.
Just look at what he accomplished. Before long, he was in frequent correspondence with some of the most famous magical minds of the time, including the celebrated alchemist Nicolas Flamel, the noted historian Bathilda Bagshot, and the magical theorist Adalbert Waffling.
Several of his essays were published in academic journals such as Transfiguration Today, Charm Innovations, and The Practical Potions Master.
Before graduation, he and another equally brilliant wizard, Elphias Doge, had planned to travel the world the moment school ended.
They had already made preparations in Diagon Alley to leave for Greece when news came that his mother, Kendra, had died—killed while caring for his sister.
And so he had no choice but to abandon his plans and go home to look after her."
Dumbledore's telling was frank and cold.
His gaze drifted past Sean's head toward the distant valley.
"And so he resented it all.
After his mother died, he was left to care for a disabled sister and a wilful younger brother. He returned to the village bitter, in pain, believing himself trapped, wasting his life.
But he forgot something. His brother had been carrying that burden all along. Only his brother could calm their sister when her emotions and magic spun out of control. And yet that was exactly what he forgot…
His brother was furious, furious at his selfishness—
Think of it: he had planned to leave this place with someone else. To run away from it. To escape the place that had trapped him.
He was that selfish, Sean. More selfish than someone as selfless as you can probably imagine.
And then… reality appeared before him wearing the face of his rough-tempered, uneducated, but far better younger brother.
He did not want to hear the truths his brother shouted at him. He did not want to hear that he was being held back by a weak, unstable sister and therefore could not go out into the world to fulfill his grand plans—to make Muggles submit, to make wizards great!
He, his companion, and his brother argued, and the argument rose into a duel. And his sister… after all the care and devotion his mother and brother had poured into protecting her… fell to the ground and died.
His companion ran away. And he was left behind to bury his sister, and to spend the rest of his life trying to live with guilt and unbearable grief. That was the price of his shame."
Dumbledore smiled, but the smile was bitter as straw left in a field, bearing a fragile kind of strength.
That, in the end, had been his whole life: always saying goodbye, always running, always trying to forget and never wanting to forget. And in the end, standing there with empty hands and a heart full of wounds.
~~~
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