"Alright, next up!" Lupin called out, snapping the class back into focus.
Draco stepped forward, all cool and confident on the outside, trying to be typical Malfoy but probably feeling a bit nervous underneath it all. Harry had already taken his turn earlier, and yep, it had been a Dementor. No one was shocked. Lupin had stepped in just in time before Harry properly passed out, so no drama there.
They didn't cancel the class or anything. Just took a quick break, which made sense. No need to shut the whole thing down just 'cause one student got a bit spooked. It was just a Boggart, not the end of the world. Now, if it had turned into Voldemort? Yeah, maybe then Lupin would've wrapped things up early.
Anyway, back to Draco.
He was standing there now, facing the Boggart. At the moment, it looked like a Centaur—legs all tied up, lying flat on the floor. Seriously? That's what the last kid was afraid of? A half-horse guy tied up like a sack of potatoes? Bit random, but hey, fears are weird like that.
Then the Boggart started to change again, this time, for Draco.
Only, it wasn't doing the usual fast switch into something terrifying. No snakes, no monsters, no angry parents. Instead, it turned all smoky and foggy, swirling and growing bigger, thicker… like it was trying to figure something out.
Draco held his wand tighter, ready to cast if needed, but he was clearly confused. Same with the rest of the class—everyone was squinting, trying to guess what was coming.
"I was kinda expecting his biggest fear to be losing all his Galleons, you know?" Ron said, a little smirk creeping onto his face.
"Or maybe even losing his perfect blond hair!" Hermione chimed in, interested as well.
"What do you think, Harry?"
But there was no response.
Harry didn't seem to hear the question. He was lost in thought, eyes locked on the Boggart.
Hermione nudged him and said softly, "Harry?"
He blinked, snapping out of it. "Huh? Yeah—what happened?"
"You okay? Do you need to leave the class?" Hermione asked, noticing the mist had already crept toward Draco and was now slowly spreading, like it might float past him and head for the rest of the students.
"No, it's okay," Harry said, shaking his head and glancing back at Draco. "What's happening to him?"
Ron, still grinning with anticipation, whispered, "We're probably about to see his best performance of the last three years."
But unlike the others, Lupin didn't look amused. His face was tense, eyes narrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. Something about this Boggart felt… off.
It was instinct, maybe something tied to his "other half." A gut feeling he couldn't shake.
He quietly raised his wand, just in case. Let's see what your past is, Draco, he thought. Even he was curious now, watching the Boggart go through all this effort just to change.
Harry's Dementor had been surprising, but this? This was on a whole different level.
The room slowly filled with mist, thick and cold. And then… everything changed.
Suddenly, it felt like the class wasn't in the Defence room anymore. They were surrounded by stars, tiny, glowing specks floating all around them like they were standing in space. Beautiful, sure, but it didn't feel right. There was no awe or wonder.
Only dread.
"I don't feel good," Ron whispered, eyes locked on something in the centre of it all, a blinding light, chained down by something unseen. The light pulsed like a heartbeat, but it was too bright to look at directly.
"Neither do I," Harry muttered, his voice low. "It's like… facing a Dementor again. But worse."
The fear wasn't just Draco's anymore. The whole class could feel it pressing on them, cold and heavy like they were underwater.
Hermione, ever the knowledge bank, spoke softly. "Sometimes… Boggarts can reflect fear so strongly that others around can feel it too. It's rare. Really rare."
She glanced around the mist-filled room. "It only happens when someone's fear is deeply connected to them—like it's part of who they are. The Boggart tries to copy that emotion so well, there's almost no difference between fake and real."
She paused, remembering. "Like when it turned into a Dementor for Harry—there was no snow, because Harry doesn't fully understand how they work. But the silence… the cold… it was close. This one, though?"
She looked back toward Draco and the chained light in the stars.
A sound broke the endless silence, not a roar, not a scream.
"Is this the one?"
Echoing through the starlit mist.
A small, black shape emerged, padding confidently toward the chained light. Short legs. Dense fur. Dark eyes that held far more weight than any normal animal should've had.
"A Scottish Terrier…" Hermione whispered, recognising the breed almost immediately. But even she sounded unsure, like her knowledge wasn't comforting her this time.
"Yes."
The response didn't come from anyone in the class.
A new figure materialised in the mist—an older man, calm and collected, wearing a cosy brown jumper. His face was kind, almost too kind, with a bushy moustache and round goggles pushed up his nose. He looked like the sort of person you'd trust… if you didn't feel that gnawing wrongness in the air.
"Why don't you all leave him?" again a voice came, casual like discussing the weather.
"Isn't it fun?"
Before anyone could react, the mist swirled again, colder, sharper. A third figure stepped out.
She was stunning. Hair like freshly fallen snow, long and glistening, falling past her waist. Pale skin. Eyes glinting with amusement, like this was all just a play for her own twisted fun.
Her voice cut through the fog like a blade. "Look at him. So cute."
The light dimmed, and for the first time, the class saw what was at the centre of it all.
Draco.
No injuries. No bruises. Just bound in glowing chains, eyes wide with pain and confusion, staring straight ahead.
Then a whisper came—his own voice.
"Leave me…"
The old man didn't even blink. He just raised his hand, and with a lazy flick of his fingers, he spoke without emotion.
"You were a mistake."
The words slammed into the room like thunder. The mist pulsed. The stars dimmed.
"No… NOOOOOOOO!!"
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