Chapter 192: Boggarts and Mental Health
Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Thanks to an entire year of incompetence and nonsense from Gilderoy Lockhart, the third year students had been left with almost no practical foundation in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
As the newly appointed professor, Remus Lupin had been forced to spend considerable effort helping them catch up on the practical material they should have learned during their second year.
At the moment, the third year Slytherins were gathered in the centre of the classroom.
Before them stood a battered old wardrobe that shook violently from side to side, producing repeated thumps from within.
Tamara stood at the very back of the line with her arms folded, coldly watching the man beside the wardrobe.
Lupin looked even more shabby than a vagrant from Knockturn Alley.
Letting a werewolf who cannot even control himself during the full moon teach students how to defend themselves against Dark creatures...
Tamara sneered inwardly.
Dumbledore's brain, stuffed with Cockroach Clusters, truly possesses a remarkable sense of humour.
Even so, she had to admit that compared with that grinning waste Lockhart, this bedraggled hound was at least vastly more competent.
"A Boggart is a shape shifting non being," Lupin explained patiently. "It takes the form of whatever the person facing it fears most."
He looked around at the students.
"The most effective weapon against a Boggart is laughter."
"You must force it to assume a form you find amusing. The incantation is Riddikulus."
After leading the class through several rounds of pronunciation practice, Lupin gestured for everyone to form a line.
"All right. Who would like to go first?"
Draco lifted his chin and immediately stepped forward.
He tightened his grip on his wand and drew a deep breath.
He expected the wardrobe to reveal his father, Lucius Malfoy, holding his serpent headed cane and coldly reprimanding him for failing to live up to expectations.
Draco had even prepared himself to put his father in a pink princess dress.
Lupin flicked his wand.
The wardrobe door flew open.
Black mist poured outward, twisting and reshaping itself in midair.
Then the mist cleared.
Draco's face instantly turned deathly pale.
A sharp breath escaped him.
The figure standing before him was not Lucius Malfoy.
It was...
Tamara Riddle.
The false Tamara wore Slytherin robes. Her expression was cold, and her dark eyes were filled with suffocating contempt.
"Draco, you are a worthless disappointment."
The Boggart looked down upon him.
"You have completely disgraced the House of Malfoy. I would rather spend my time with that idiot Potter than look at you for another second."
"I... I didn't..."
Draco stammered.
Throughout all of Slytherin, his deepest fear was not his father's anger.
It was being completely rejected and abandoned by Tamara.
"Ri... Riddikulus!"
Draco jerked his wand forward.
Crack!
A ridiculous clown hat covered in jingling bells appeared on the Boggart's head, while its Slytherin robes transformed into a gaudy polka dot dress.
The sight should have been hilarious.
Draco did not laugh.
The moment the spell succeeded, he refused even to glance toward the real Tamara at the back of the line.
He had no desire to discover whether putting a clown hat on his terrifying leader would result in his mysterious disappearance after class.
Draco hurried into a corner.
Next came Gregory Goyle.
Goyle stepped forward.
The black mist churned once again.
Tamara Riddle appeared.
Again.
This version looked even more irritated.
The Boggart seized Goyle by the collar and snarled at him.
"If you still cannot master the Levitation Charm, I'll throw you from the upper floors and see whether all that fat makes you bounce."
"Riddikulus!"
Goyle shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut as he wildly waved his wand.
The terrifying Tamara instantly transformed into an enormous cupcake.
Then came Pansy Parkinson.
The Boggart became Tamara once again.
It raised its wand expressionlessly.
"Those vulgar dresses of yours are an offence to my eyes."
Flames immediately engulfed all the most expensive and beautiful lace dresses in Pansy's wardrobe.
"Waaah! Riddikulus!"
Pansy nearly cried as she cast the spell.
The flames burst apart and transformed into fluttering rose petals.
One student followed another.
And again.
And again.
Tamara Riddle.
Professor Lupin, standing near the wardrobe, gradually became speechless.
Four.
Then five Slytherin students in succession.
Their deepest, most unbearable fear was somehow the same person.
Lupin slowly turned his head and looked toward the black haired Slytherin girl standing at the end of the line.
She was strikingly beautiful, her posture elegant, her expression cold and aloof.
The experienced Order of the Phoenix member felt his understanding of the situation beginning to crumble.
What in Merlin's name had this girl done to her housemates?
Why was she the greatest fear of half the Slytherins in the room?
Tamara, meanwhile, watched the disgraceful fools before her, the corner of her mouth twitching.
Pathetic.
Revealing something like this in front of a professor from another House was an utter humiliation to Slytherin.
Yet at the same time...
As the Dark Lord who had once ruled through fear, seeing her authority embedded so deeply in their minds that it surpassed monsters and death itself produced an undeniably twisted sense of satisfaction.
At least my efforts have not been wasted.
Eventually, only Tamara remained.
The moment she stepped forward and approached the battered wardrobe, the entire classroom became silent.
Every Slytherin held their breath.
Several unconsciously stepped backwards.
Even Lupin straightened slightly, curiosity and caution entering his eyes.
The same question occupied everyone's mind.
What could possibly frighten the girl who terrified nearly everyone else?
Tamara stopped before the wardrobe.
Her expression remained cold and composed.
She already knew what would emerge.
There was only one thing she truly feared.
The nightmare that had haunted Lord Voldemort throughout her entire existence.
A frail corpse stripped of all magic, dying as miserably and meaninglessly as an ordinary Muggle.
Her own corpse.
Death.
That was the ultimate boundary she had pursued immortality to overcome.
Tamara tightened her grip on her wand.
She was prepared to confront death itself.
The wardrobe door slowly opened.
Thick black mist poured outward.
It twisted through the air, beginning to form the outline of a corpse.
Then, just before the transformation could complete itself...
[Ding! Warning! Warning! High Energy Psychological Hazard Detected!]
The System's shrill alarm exploded through Tamara's mind.
[Detected imagery includes real death, decaying corpses, extreme pessimism, and other elements deemed severely unsuitable under the Regulations for the Healthy Development of Underage Wizards!]
[To protect the physical and mental wellbeing of the Host and all young witches and wizards present...]
[Eye Protection and Mental Health Mode forcibly activated!]
[Automatic image adjustment in progress...]
"What?!"
Tamara's pupils contracted.
Before she could even comprehend what madness the System intended to commit, the black mist dispersed.
What emerged was not her corpse.
It was a person.
A...
Tamara dressed in an extraordinarily modest black and white nun's habit.
Tamara froze.
It was almost an exact reproduction of the nauseating image she had once seen in the Mirror of Erised during her first year.
The false Tamara radiated dazzling white light and overwhelming compassion.
Her hands were clasped gently before her chest, while a crystalline tear of sympathy rested at the corner of one eye.
There was nothing frightening about her.
She looked delicate, gentle, and pitiful.
Her entire presence overflowed with such appalling kindness that merely looking at her seemed to fill the room with warmth.
The entire class stared in dead silence.
Nun Tamara slowly approached the real one with a benevolent smile.
Then she raised one hand and tenderly stroked Tamara's forehead.
"Oh, my dear. You look so tired."
Her voice was soft and ethereal.
She even opened her arms, apparently intending to embrace her murderous counterpart.
"Let go of the hatred and obsession in your heart. Stop pursuing empty power."
"The world is filled with love and peace. Open your heart and embrace every Muggle and every classmate."
"May the holy light cleanse your sinful soul..."
"..."
The real Tamara Riddle's expression twisted.
The instant that thing touched her forehead and began preaching about love and peace, something inside Tamara snapped.
The revulsion churning in her stomach combined with such overwhelming humiliation that she almost felt her blood flowing backwards.
She, the great Dark Lord, was being subjected to this kind of mental corruption in front of an entire classroom.
This was ten thousand times worse than seeing her own corpse.
She would not permit that disgusting abomination to remain in existence for one second longer.
Without hesitation, Tamara opened the System interface in her mind.
"System! Use the [Designated Skill Book]! Maximise Riddikulus immediately!"
[Ding! Designated Skill Book consumed.]
[Skill acquisition successful.]
The instant the spell became available to her, Tamara drew her eleven inch holly wand.
Her fury caused the surrounding magic to surge dangerously.
Several sharp sparks crackled from the wand tip.
Tamara glared at the compassionate nun.
Her teeth clenched.
Then she roared with enough hatred to make the supposedly humorous spell sound like a curse meant for execution.
"Riddikulus!"
The spell was supposed to defeat fear through laughter.
Tamara cast it with the murderous force of an Unforgivable Curse.
The nun did not even have time to react.
Bang!
Violent magic struck her head on.
The compassionate figure exploded into an enormous cloud of multicoloured confetti.
The force of the spell blasted the remaining Boggart smoke backwards.
It shot into the wardrobe.
Bang!
The door slammed shut beneath the magical shockwave.
The lock clicked into place by itself.
The entire wardrobe trembled pitifully for several seconds, creaking as though even the Boggart inside had been thoroughly frightened and had no intention of emerging again.
Multicoloured confetti drifted slowly through the classroom.
Silence followed.
Absolute silence.
No one dared speak.
Several students barely seemed willing to breathe.
Tamara calmly lowered her wand.
Her face was so dark that it appeared almost venomous, while the oppressive atmosphere around her made the room feel colder.
She did not look at anyone.
She did not even acknowledge Professor Lupin's stunned expression.
Under the awestruck gazes of the Slytherins, Tamara silently returned to the back of the line with the same cold, aloof posture she always carried.
As though absolutely nothing unusual had happened.
At the front of the classroom, Lupin swallowed.
He slowly raised one hand and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
His gaze shifted toward the black haired girl who had once again disappeared into the shadows at the rear of the class.
At that moment, the dutiful Defence Against the Dark Arts professor reached a firm conclusion.
He needed to speak with Dumbledore after class.
The mental wellbeing of this year's Slytherins clearly required some serious consideration.
Especially Miss Riddle.
This was getting ridiculous.