The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with anticipation. A massive wardrobe loomed at the front, facing the combined Slytherin and Gryffindor third-years.
With a thunderous bang, something inside rattled violently, drawing sharp gasps from the students.
Professor Lupin beamed at their reactions. Life at Hogwarts had been a godsend for him—gone were the threadbare rags that had barely kept him decent. Now, in a crisp, tailored robe, he actually looked the part of a professor.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" he said, his voice warm and engaging. "Any guesses on what's inside?"
"It's a Boggart!" Dean Thomas blurted out from the Gryffindor side.
Lupin nodded approvingly. "Spot on, Mr. Thomas. And does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?"
He paced leisurely toward the wardrobe.
"Argus? When did you sneak up behind us?!" Draco Malfoy jumped, startled by Argus's sudden appearance in line.
Lupin glanced over from a few paces away, his eyes narrowing briefly. As a former Hogwarts standout—and now faculty—he knew about Time-Turners and their tricks, but he let it slide.
When no one else spoke, he turned. "Mr. Grindelwald?"
Argus, fresh from his temporal shortcut, recalled the scene from the books. "Boggarts are shapeshifters with no fixed form," he said clearly. "They peer into your mind and become your deepest fear. Best not to face one alone—crowds confuse them, since they can't decide on a single shape. Laughter drives them off, forcing them into harmless smoke. And the Riddikulus charm seals the deal."
The class swung their gazes to Lupin, who forced a nod. After two years of Argus stealing the spotlight, they all knew his answers were textbook-perfect. The only question was house points.
The students relaxed, but Lupin inwardly winced. "Why'd I call on him? He's covered it all—what's left for me?"
Still, he pressed on, gritting his teeth. "An excellent summary, Mr. Grindelwald. Slytherin, three points."
He cleared his throat. "Boggarts once terrorized wizards—some even met grim ends. But now we have the Riddikulus charm. Let's practice. Wands down for now."
Lupin patted the wardrobe twice. It shuddered, creaking ominously.
"Repeat after me: Riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class echoed softly, a few mimicking wand flicks for emphasis.
"Louder—project it like you mean it!"
"Riddikulus! Riddikulus!" They chanted it a dozen times, Ron Weasley—fresh from the hospital wing—muttering through a wince as he tugged at a lingering cut near his eye.
Satisfied, Lupin continued. "Recitation's the warm-up. As Mr. Grindelwald noted, true victory comes from laughter. Picture your fear in a ridiculous form—something that cracks you up."
His eyes swept the room, lingering on Argus before darting away. "Not him again."
"Mr. Thomas, care to demonstrate?"
Dean glanced around nervously but stepped forward at Lupin's encouraging nod.
"What frightens you most, Mr. Thomas?"
"Snakes... a basilisk, specifically."
"A basilisk? Terrifying indeed." Murmurs rippled through the class, eyes flicking to Argus—the basilisk slayer—which irked Ron no end.
"Parading his glory like that," Ron grumbled under his breath. "Slytherins and their dark tricks." Only Harry, beside him, caught the words.
Lupin ignored the side glances and focused on Dean. "Do you like doughnuts, Mr. Thomas?"
"Er, sure, but not one made from a basilisk..."
Lupin chuckled. "No eating required. Just envision it. Syrup dripping, chocolate sprinkles, that perfect ring shape—clear as day in your mind. Topped with cream and jam."
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating.
"Keep it vivid, but silent. We can picture it too. When I open the door, see the basilisk morph into that absurd treat."
The wardrobe bucked wildly, and Dean gripped his wand tighter.
Lupin drew his own from his coat pocket, smiling. "Wands at the ready. Three... two... one!"
A nonverbal Alohomora clicked the lock open. The door swung wide.
A colossal serpent lunged out, hissing—a massive basilisk with gleaming fangs. Screams pierced the air as students recoiled.
But the beast didn't strike. It slithered toward Dean and Lupin, tongue flicking.
"Focus, Mr. Thomas," Lupin whispered urgently. "The doughnut—now!"
Dean's eyes snapped open. He thrust his wand forward. "Riddikulus!"
In an instant, the basilisk ballooned into a gigantic doughnut. Its head bit its tail in a sugary loop, scales morphing into glazed icing dotted with chocolate and jam. It writhed comically, eliciting gales of laughter.
Lupin grinned. "Brilliant, Mr. Thomas! Gryffindor, five points. Back in line—everyone, form up. Imagine your worst fear turning comical."
Goyle and Crabbe tried bulling to the front, but Draco's icy glare sent them slinking to the rear.
Excitement built as the line shortened. Soon, it was Draco's turn.
"Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said evenly, "what will you transform it into? Something funny?"
Draco hesitated. "I... think so."
Before he could settle on it, Lupin cracked the wardrobe open.
The class erupted in hysterics. Even Argus, waiting behind, stifled a snort.
Out stepped a perfect duplicate of Argus Grindelwald—smirking, impeccable, and utterly Draco's nightmare.
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