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HRHL# CHAPTER 238
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 00:08:00 +0000 UTCThe Boggart paused, looking around in bewilderment, utterly clueless about what had just happened.
“Excellent, next!” Professor Lupin roared with laughter, clearly delighted with Neville’s handiwork. “Ron, your turn!”
Ron shuffled forward with a crab-like gait, coming face-to-face with the Boggart dressed as Snape in drag.
“Focus, everyone, and don’t be afraid!” Lupin called out, grinning.
No sooner had he spoken than a vortex of air swirled around ‘Snape,’ engulfing the figure entirely.
Moments later, an enormous spider materialized before Ron. Its back bore red markings, and its legs were covered in sharp… bristles or hairs, it was hard to tell. Its massive pincers clacked menacingly, as if ready to snap Ron in half.
Ron let out a strangled “Urgh!” Despite his dueling skills now rivaling those of a typical fifth or sixth-year student, facing his childhood fear was no easy feat.
He took a deep breath and drew his wand.
“Riddikulus!” he shouted.
Suddenly, the spider’s eight legs were fitted with roller skates. Unable to move forward, it skidded wildly and crashed heavily onto the floor.
The class erupted in laughter.
“Seamus! You’re up next!” Lupin said, chuckling.
Seamus stepped forward, and the spider spun once more. In its place appeared a ghastly banshee, straight out of a Japanese horror film, her eerie smirk chilling as she reached out with claw-like hands.
“Riddikulus!” Seamus bellowed.
With a snap, the banshee transformed into a squeaking rat, scurrying aimlessly in circles.
“Next! Miss Granger!” Lupin called, clapping his hands.
Hermione approached the rat. In moments, it morphed into a massive exam paper bearing her name, with a glaring red “T” scrawled beside it.
She raised her wand, pointing at the paper. “Riddikulus!”
The paper tore itself apart with a ripping sound, its fragments fluttering down—only to reform into a parrot made of shredded parchment, much like Jack.
“Next! Miss Grindelwald!” Lupin called again.
Veratia stepped up to the Boggart-parrot, standing her ground.
The class held its breath, eager to see what the mysterious transfer student’s Boggart would reveal.
With a hiss and a pop, the Boggart exploded in a puff of smoke.
As the mist cleared, a figure emerged.
“Harry?!” Ron blurted out, shocked. “It’s Harry?”
Indeed, Veratia’s Boggart was… Harry?
Lupin straightened, eyeing the Boggart-Harry with confusion.
Harry himself felt a strange unease. Another version of him stood just feet away… but why was he Veratia’s Boggart?
To everyone’s surprise, Veratia didn’t immediately cast a spell. Instead, she waited as the Boggart approached her.
The Boggart-Harry strode forward, wearing an arrogant smirk reminiscent of Cassandra’s.
“Hmph, Squib—utterly inferior…” it sneered.
Veratia’s wand glowed with a green light.
Lupin’s scalp prickled. He was certain the Riddikulus charm didn’t produce green light—
“Riddikulus!” Veratia said softly.
The Boggart-Harry froze, his clothes transforming into a frilly dress, his head now adorned with a wide-brimmed sunhat favored by ladies a century ago.
The class stood stunned for several seconds before bursting into laughter even louder than when they’d seen Snape in drag.
Ron and Hermione, in particular, pointed at the real Harry, howling with mirth.
“Alright, next—” Lupin clapped, still grinning. “Harry, your turn—”
Harry could’ve sworn Lupin was doing this on purpose, forcing him to face his cross-dressing doppelgänger.
But with no evidence to prove it, he stepped forward, confronting the frilly version of himself.
The Boggart-Harry stood tall, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
When the mist cleared, a hooded figure wielding a scythe appeared.
The figure raised its scythe high, swinging it toward Veratia.
“Riddikulus!” Harry pointed his wand at the Grim Reaper Boggart and shouted.
With a crackle, the Boggart transformed into a comical dog’s head.
The class roared with laughter again—they’d never seen such an absurd dog head before.
“Next, Miss Abbott!” Lupin called.
Hannah stepped forward, and the dog head morphed into a massive venomous snake.
“Riddikulus!” Hannah incanted, pointing at the serpent.
The snake became a vibrant red ribbon, looking festively cheerful.
Lupin clapped, urging more students forward.
It must be said, the Boggart was remarkably resilient, holding out until every student had faced their greatest fear before Lupin finally locked it back in the wardrobe, looking rather deflated.
“Now that we’ve finished the lesson, let’s give our poor Boggart a rest,” he said.
The classroom filled with enthusiastic applause, a testament to Lupin’s overwhelming approval.
Before the lesson, some had doubted whether Lupin would be a competent professor.
“Brilliant!” Lupin declared. “Well done, everyone—I’m awarding five points to each house for your laughter defeating the Boggart.”
“And to everyone who faced the Boggart, another five points!” he added. “A fantastic lesson—but I’m not letting you off that easily. Your homework is to read the chapter on Boggarts carefully and write a nine-inch essay, due Monday… That’s all, class dismissed!”
Even after the lesson ended, the students buzzed with excitement, eagerly discussing the class—especially Snape’s drag Boggart.
Merlin’s beard, Snape in a dress… it was just…
Harry had no interest in joining the chatter. He hurried alongside Veratia toward the eighth-floor Headmaster’s office.
In the classroom, Lupin’s eyes gleamed, still pondering the incident with Harry.
Harry and Veratia soon reached the Headmaster’s office, where Cassandra was already waiting by the entrance. Seeing them arrive late, she wrinkled her nose. “Well, well, looks like you two were off on a little date, hence the tardiness?”
“I just came from class,” Harry said curtly, now treading carefully.
After Ron’s outburst, he felt even more cautious.
Yet a small voice in his subconscious urged him—don’t give up on anyone.
“Ohh~” Cassandra drawled, narrowing her eyes. “So our little Potter baby still needs his auntie to pick him up from class…”
She emphasized “auntie” heavily.
It seemed Cassandra was using the term to highlight Veratia’s connection to Lily, as her mother’s close friend. Was it really appropriate for her to be so close to Lily’s son?
“Then you pick me up tomorrow,” Harry shot back impulsively.
He regretted it instantly—his mouth had moved faster than his brain.
To his surprise, Cassandra didn’t snap. Instead, she gave a faint smile.
“Fine, if you’re willing to call me Auntie too—”
Before she could finish, the stone gargoyle leapt aside.
“The Headmaster will see you,” it said.
Cassandra glanced at the pair, then strode in confidently.
Harry hurried after her, trailing closely behind.
In the Headmaster’s office, Mr. Flamel was already seated, with Poppy in her unicorn form beside him.
As Harry approached, Poppy trotted forward, somehow holding a bag of blueberries in her mouth.
“Here, Harry,” Poppy said. “Try these—freshly picked blueberries!”
“Thanks.” Harry patted Poppy’s head and took the bag.
They settled at the Headmaster’s desk, taking their seats.
Dumbledore poured everyone a glass of sugar-free lemonade.
No one minded, especially not Flamel… Dumbledore didn’t dare risk giving the six-hundred-year-old wizard a lethal dose of sugar.
If the old man keeled over from too much sweetness, it’d be infamous for centuries.
“Let’s hear it,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve been meaning to ask about this Death business in detail, but I’ve been tied up with Wizengamot meetings…”
Harry gathered his thoughts and recounted everything from Cassandra’s dream, explaining it thoroughly to Dumbledore.
Including Death’s threats, concerning Poppy and Veratia.
After Harry’s account, the room fell into a thoughtful silence, even Flamel.
“I must admit, my knowledge of Death is limited,” Dumbledore said, hands clasped. “Harry, you know my understanding of Death stems only from my foolish youthful pursuit of the Deathly Hallows…”
“The legend says whoever possesses the three Deathly Hallows becomes the Master of Death, right?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Dumbledore replied softly, “but I still believe that’s merely a fanciful tale.”
Another heavy silence filled the Headmaster’s office.
“But rest assured,” Flamel spoke up, “Death cannot manifest in the material plane. He won’t come to Earth to hunt you down—unless someone summons him, that is.”
Dumbledore paused at Flamel’s words.
“Have a look at this.” He pulled a letter from a drawer and handed it to Harry and the others. “This is Newt’s investigation from North America. He suspects Voldemort is performing some mysterious ritual.”
Harry took the letter, and he and Veratia read it carefully.
“You’re saying Voldemort is trying to summon Death?” Harry asked, frowning.
The letter’s speculation wasn’t baseless. Voldemort’s current ritual seemed to draw on various mythologies to summon Death.
“It appears last year he attempted a ritual to summon Anubis, the Egyptian god of death,” Dumbledore said, rubbing his eyelids. “But he likely failed, or he wouldn’t be pursuing this new ritual…”
“I still don’t understand, Professor,” Harry said, brow furrowed. “Voldemort’s just a wraith now. He’s gone to such lengths to evade death, even splitting his soul. Why would he risk summoning Death? Isn’t he afraid Death would deal with him first?”
“Oh, Death isn’t as extreme as you might think, Harry,” Flamel said suddenly. “In my experience, Death can be a bit vengeful but is still somewhat reasonable—provided you don’t anger him.”
At that, everyone turned to Cassandra.
They all knew Cassandra’s sharp tongue. Had she ever mocked Death?
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not some brainless fool who can’t read the room,” Cassandra said, spreading her hands. “What good would taunting a Death deity do me? I wouldn’t bother.”
Poppy lowered her head and muttered, “Hard to say.”
Cassandra promptly grabbed her ear, yanking it playfully as Poppy yelped.
The discussion in the Headmaster’s office yielded no concrete answers, but they gleaned some marginally useful information.
Veratia and Cassandra decided to research records and legends about Death.
Instead of returning to the dormitory, Harry went with Poppy to the Black Lake, hoping she could help him sort things out.
It was afternoon, and the Black Lake was quiet, with few students around. Harry and Poppy found an open spot and sat down.
“Poppy,” Harry said, patting her neck. “I have something important to ask you—really, really important.”
“Oh?” Poppy nodded, glancing around to ensure Veratia and Cassandra weren’t nearby, then grinned. “Alright, ask away~”
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
