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[Professor Penvellyn]

Eleanor usually liked to start off the return from holiday with a review of some sort. However, she had traveled home over the break only to find that not one, but two boggarts had decided to take up residence in her more or less abandoned home. After she managed to put them into containers fit for travel, her antique family trunk and built in wardrobe weren’t going to Hogwarts any time soon, she had considered the idea of employing a house elf or two to keep the place lived in, but decided against it.

Here in the classroom, one of the traveling chests was perched upon the only desk left out. All of the others had been pushed to the sides of the class to make room. The chest jiggled a little, the creature inside longing to jump out and scare the bejesus out of her like it did a few weeks ago. She wouldn’t be caught unawares again.

Rather than have the students all pull out their textbooks and then put them away for the demonstration, Eleanor copied the information from the page found in their books on to the chalkboard. Thankfully there was no illustration to copy, as she was rather bad at caricatures. She had just finished with the last sentence and was dusting the chalk off her fingers as the first students arrived.

[Joseph Arthur Wilkins]

Joe rather enjoyed defensive magic, as a practically minded boy he considered this particular lesson to be rather useful. It was one of the few subjects aside from Herbology that he really looked forward to taking part in, and despite the fact that he had just returned from his Chirstmas break his mind was already geared up for school work and taking in knowledge. Even on the farm he had not been completely lacking in work tasks that needed his attention so he hadn't let his mind sleep through continuous slacking or leisure time.

As he entred the classroom he noticed that the professor had just finished typing some notes up on the board, and of course being of a polite nature he gave a friendly "Hello professor" before he immediately found a question he wanted to ask. "Do you want us to take all that down before we begin?" He inquired, glancing at the writing on the board as he spoke. Judging by the amount that the professor had written, he felt sure that he would be required to commit it to parchment at some point.

Edited by Joseph Arthur Wilkins, 06 December 2011 - 04:50 PM.

[Alistair Bauldaugh]

Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of the few that Alistair liked although he knew he wasn’t the best at it. He was able to relax a little in knowing that he was unlikely to use a lot of what he was being taught. The most he had ever heard of these spells being used was in great dueling championships or sixth years having a go at one another in the hall. At least when it came to wand work against another wizard, Alistair was fairly certain he would never have to use what he’d been taught.

His heart thus fell when he walked into the room and realized that they would be working with some sort of creature, or so said the writing on the chalk board. Joe asked if they needed to write it down, which Alistair sincerely hoped against; there was a lot of writing up there! He looked over some of the things that seemed important, like where to find the creature and the incantation against it.

“Reed-ick-you-loss.” One of Alistair’s troubles was being unable to pronounce the spell correctly, so he tried to practice before hand. The chest on the table, that Alistair hadn’t noticed until just now, shook violently. Were they going to actually be defending themselves against something? Right now? Shouldn’t they have a bit more time?

Alistair walked over and stood next to Joe. He certainly wouldn’t know what a boggart was unless he had read the chapter. Alistair had never seen one, but apparently his dad had come across one at work once when a witch brought in a case that she couldn’t get undone. “Can’t be too bad, not with all of us here.” The boy didn’t understand much of them, but his dad had told him that it was best to try to destroy a boggart with someone else’s help.

[Professor Penvellyn]

Once the students started filing in, the chest rested quietly on the table. No doubt it knew that it was outnumbered and that the best hope it had was to go undetected. Unfortunately, that was not on the lesson plan. “No, Mr. Wilkins, that is simply up there for you to reference during the lesson today. If you would like to look back on it later, it can be found in the chapter covering boggarts. I believe it’s on page one hundred sixty three.” It would have been too much of a hassle for the students to attempt to hold their ink pots and parchment while trying to copy it down anyway.

“Everyone, please gather round where you can see me and today’s assignment,” Eleanor gestured to the traveling chest, which shuddered slightly when the room fell quiet. “Inside this is a boggart; a shape shifter that transforms itself into your own fear upon seeing you. It is always best to tackle a boggart in groups. A classroom full of students isn’t necessary; usually two or three should do it. The purpose is to make the boggart confused by giving it more than one target to attempt to frighten.” The chest shook again and Eleanor rapped it smartly with her wand before finishing.

“In the end, a boggart is destroyed by laughter. Therefore, the spell I shall teach you requires you to turn your fear into something humorous. I’ll give you just a moment. Think up something terrifying, something you fear greatly. Then, picture it changed, into something you and your classmates will laugh at.” While the students were thinking, Penvellyn walked over to the chalkboard and underlined the incantation.

“‘Riddikulus’ is the proper way to say the spell, not ‘ridiculous’. There is no specific wand motion, just point, say the word firmly, and be sure to be picturing the change you want to see. And no funny business. Anything inappropriate for the classroom will result in a trip to the Headmaster’s office.” Professor Penvellyn had talked quite a bit. She gave the students the next five minutes to prepare themselves.

[Alistair Bauldaugh]

The incantation alone made Alistair want to laugh. But what could a thirteen year old boy be afraid of that he didn’t mind the whole class around him knowing? There weren’t any monsters that scared him, especially when he was in a class that taught him to defend himself. He didn’t know how a monster would take on the form of a lost loved one. While other students seemed to come up with a quick and decisive fear, Alistair’s mind seemed to be running in slow motion.

“Mine’s snakes,” One girl confided to another. Her partner nodded in understanding and muttered something back about spinach. What was wrong with reptiles or vegetables? Girls had dumb and irrational fears.

Tapping his chin, Alistair thought back on some of his fonder memories of school and attempted to turn them into something unpleasant. But even after considering his sorting, his time on the quidditch pitch, and his exams, there was little to be afraid of. However it seemed that it was his turn. The boggart had been released by the professor and already two students had cast great spells. Suddenly a fear of snakes didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

The figure, which incidentally was currently a bunch of fluttering butterflies, looked in his direction, as much as butterflies can, and swirled around forming in front of him, much to his great surprise, his best friend, Cerri. “Alistair Bauldaugh!” The clone screeched, pointing her finger at him. “How dare you show your face before me!”

Interested in what it was that caused his friend to be so angry, Alistair stammered “What did I do?” The whispers of his classmates were lost on him as the girl in front of him began railing away at his rudeness, his silly hair, and his inability to dance! “Ridikulus!” He shouted. All of Cerri’s words from that point on came out of her mouth in a high pitched tone, as though she had swallowed a tank of helium for breakfast.

“And another thing…. she squeaked. Alistair couldn’t even hear the fake complaints being made over his own laughter. He quickly stepped to the side to allow the next person in line a chance.

“Me, a bad dancer?” Alistair whispered to himself. The foolish boggart had ruined the façade with that remark. The boy laughed along with the others as the lesson continued.

[Joseph Arthur Wilkins]

Joe listened to the professor's advice about boggarts, relieved in a way that this lesson would be more practical and that he wouldn't be required to wrote loads of notes. Defence lessons tended that way and that made them enjoyable in his eyes. He preferred to be actually doing something productive rather than just sitting and taking notes. His life on the farm was an active one, and this how he tended to prefer his school days too.

He watched as one person after another faced and conquered the boggart before them, he wasn't surprised to see some of the objects and creatures that had emerged, spiders, snakes and such were common phobias shared by all manner of people but when Cerri appeared before Alistair, Joe's first reaction was to raise an eyebrow slightly, the girl wasn't to him all that scary but then he heard the clone's voice and it occurred to him that what Alistair feared was her rejection of him. Were the two of them perhaps becoming more than just friends?

He wondered for a time what that boggart would transform in to when he was before it, and his initial thought was that it might draw upon his own family dynamics, he didn't care to see an image of his sister in any kind of trouble and certainly not a lifeless body, and he wouldn't put it past the boggart to be that cruel in its assessment of him.

When he stood before it though, he was not faced with an image of Mary, nor was she shown either of his parents or anyone else he cared about. The boggart transformed into a simple broomstick in empty air in front of him. Was he afraid of brooms? That broom looked familiar, it bore a striking resemblance to the school broom he had been asked to practice on during his first ever flying lesson, in fact he could have sworn it was the exact same one, there were even broken and bent bristles in exactly the same places he remembered. He studied the broom for a moment, wondering why he was so afraid of it, then it started doing something he really hoped it would not attempt.

The broom took off, it started flying around the room, back and forth above his head. It flew towards him, then veered off and moved away and came towards him again. He tried to turn away but no matter where he moved it quickly returned to his eye-line, still flying around the room. Even closing his eyes was not enough, he could still hear it soaring over his head. He didn't like this at all, brooms had no place at all in the air, not if he had anything to say about it.

And he did have something to say, at least in this case. He wanted, sought desperately to put that unwelcome broomstick in its place, show it what brooms were really put on this Earth for, he raised his wand and pointed at the offending flying object and cried out "Riddikulus!"

In an instant the broom wasn't flying any more, it was back on the ground and it had started sweeping the floor in front of his feet. He laughed at it, he couldn't help laughing at it. In his own mind he had put that upstart broom in its place, he was delighted.