If you're enjoying these stories, consider leaving a comment, review, or vote.
You can also visit the Pat** on at: ilham20
Lupin turned back to the Gryffindors. "Mr. Weasley?"
A massive, hairy spider crawled out of the shadows. Harry immediately recognized it—it was practically a carbon copy of Aragog. Its eight eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger, and its pincers scraped together, making a sickening, teeth-grinding clack-clack sound.
Ron let out a noise that was somewhere between a terrified scream and a hiccup, stumbling backward.
"Riddikulus!" Ron cast the spell, his voice trembling violently.
"Excellent, Mr. Weasley, absolutely excellent!" Lupin laughed heartily. "A spider dancing ballet—now that is some impressive imagination."
"Thank God Julien told me about Swan Lake, otherwise I'd have had no idea what to do," Ron muttered, leaning heavily against Harry. His legs had completely turned to jelly.
"Fear itself is not the enemy. Letting fear control you is," Lupin emphasized, addressing the entire class again. "Once you conquer a Boggart, you can face anything."
"Next," Lupin said, smiling at the excited, shoving crowd of students. "Slytherin. Miss Greengrass, you're up."
One by one, the young wizards eagerly stepped up, laying their deepest fears bare—and one by one, they conquered them.
The one that left the biggest impression on Julien was Hermione's. Her Boggart morphed into a giant, self-turning notebook. Every single page was an exam paper, and every single paper was stamped with a massive FAIL—in what was unmistakably Professor McGonagall's stern handwriting.
"Ravenclaw. Mr. Black?" Lupin's gaze finally landed on Julien. "Don't just stand there laughing. It's your turn."
As Julien stepped forward, he felt the heavy stares of both Elizabeth and Liriya. They were worried, alert, and more than a little curious.
He walked to the center of the room, casually twirling his silver lime wand between his fingers.
This guy is still trying to show off right now, Hermione thought with a scowl.
"Mr. Black," Lupin's smile suddenly faded. His voice carried a heavy, serious undertone that only the two of them could pick up on. "Are you ready?"
Julien smiled and nodded.
Honestly, he was curious himself.
Voldemort? Probably not.
Werewolves? Impossible.
Ghosts from his past life? He saw actual ghosts every day at Hogwarts in this life.
A lot of fanfiction liked to use nukes as the ultimate fear, but honestly, he just didn't have that kind of personal connection or trauma to make it work.
Please don't let it be Dumbledore, he thought. Some people had theorized that, but if Dumbledore popped out, it'd be game over. Hopefully not.
The wardrobe doors slowly creaked open.
Darkness. A darkness far deeper and heavier than anything a Dementor could bring...
And then, from that absolute blackness, a figure stepped out.
The laughter in the classroom died instantly.
It was Julien. But not the Julien standing there now. It was a future him—or rather, a possible version of him.
This "Julien" wore midnight-black robes dusted with fragments of starlight. His long, silver-white hair cascaded over his shoulders, looking eerily similar to Grindelwald's current style. In his hand, he held a stone tablet covered in moving constellations.
Though his face was aged, it was undeniably an older Julien.
But his eyes... those eyes were a pure, abyssal black.
His cold, apathetic expression carried the distinct, overwhelming arrogance of someone who knew all the answers.
"You're finally here," the dark Julien spoke, his voice echoing as if from a great distance. "You finally understand. This so-called 'stability' is foolish and cowardly. The only way is to open—"
At the exact same time, a terrifying illusion bled into the room around him. Beneath his feet, the ruins of Hogwarts were burning. Behind him, a massive, catastrophic rift tore through the sky.
The classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Elizabeth gripped her wand so tightly her knuckles turned white. Liriya's silver-white hair fluttered without any wind, like a battle standard unfurling for war.
Julien stared at his "other self."
He remembered Grindelwald's lessons in Nurmengard, and his final words before the rose-key pulled him back : "Possibility… is what my generation lacked the most."
+1
Then, Julien laughed.
It wasn't a nervous laugh, nor a forced one. It was a genuine, belly-deep laugh, laced with sheer mischievous delight.
Dumbass. I don't need your guidance, even if you are me.
"Riddikulus," he said, his voice as calm and steady as if he were ordering a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.
The dark-robed "Julien"—his menacing robes suddenly exploded into a hilariously gaudy, sequin-covered peacock blue, completely identical to Gilderoy Lockhart's most over-the-top outfit.
The ancient star-map tablet in his hands warped into a massive, melting Chocolate Frog. The constellation patterns morphed into a cartoon smiley face—complete with Lockhart's signature curled eyelashes.
The burning ruins of Hogwarts at his feet turned into a bouncy castle, being actively inflated with a straw by a giant, hot-pink Dementor. To top it off, the Dementor was wearing an "I Heart Azkaban" button.
But the crowning glory was the dark Julien's hair. That sweeping, silver-white Grindelwald-esque mane abruptly snapped into tight, honey-colored curls—exactly like Astoria Greengrass's hair today—complete with two cheeky little bows tied into it.
"I am the greatest wizard!" the ridiculous 'Dark Julien' shrieked in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. "I will open—"
He suddenly tripped over the hem of his trailing peacock-blue robes and face-planted spectacularly backward into the wardrobe.
Silence.
And then, a roar of laughter erupted, loud enough to shatter a crystal ball.
Professor Lupin—Remus Lupin, a man who had walked through true darkness—stood off to the side, a complex light flickering in his gray-brown eyes.
He watched Julien. He watched this third-year student put his wand away amidst the roaring laughter, that mischievous smirk still playing on his lips.
He felt he was beginning to understand exactly what that Boggart had just revealed.
"Outstanding, Mr. Black," Lupin's voice cut through the laughter, carrying a unique, warm tone. "Truly outstanding."
"Did you see the hair?! Greengrass curls!"
"And the peacock robes! Lockhart would die of jealousy!"
"I think the 'I Heart Azkaban' pin was the absolute best part."
"What, are the curls not cute? I obviously gave Julien some inspiration today!" Daphne said proudly, laughing along with the rest.
Julien found himself sandwiched between Elizabeth and Liriya, flanked like some precious museum exhibit that needed heavily armed guarding.
"Did you have that planned out?" Elizabeth asked, the amusement still lingering in her icy-gray eyes. "That... look?"
"Parts of it," Julien admitted. "The Grindelwald hair was improv. But the Chocolate Frog—" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a real, regular-sized Chocolate Frog.
Liriya lightly punched his shoulder—the Northern girl's way of showing she cared. "You actually scared me for a second. Was that Boggart really you...?"
"That Boggart was me," Julien said, his voice dropping so low only the two of them could hear. "I mean, it's a possible me. But only a possibility."
Julien looked out the window into the distance. The Astronomy Tower looked ancient and peaceful in the autumn sunlight. Far off, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a Hippogriff was spreading its wings, skimming low over the black waters of the lake.
"Professor Lupin was right," Julien finally said. "Fear itself isn't the enemy. Letting fear control you is."
He turned back to the two girls, his emerald-green eyes flashing with a light that made them feel both reassured and deeply concerned. "So, I chose to... laugh at it."
Elizabeth gave a soft hmph, though the corners of her mouth tipped upward. "A classic Ravenclaw solution. Weaponizing humor with knowledge."
"No," Liriya said suddenly, her ice-blue eyes locking onto Julien's. "That was a classic Julien solution. Weaponizing courage... with humor."
"Excellent, excellent!" Lupin laughed loudly from the front of the room.
By this point, the Boggart had shifted into a roly-poly clown toy, wobbling helplessly back and forth.
"Next up—Harry Potter."