Chapter 227. Boggart
The next day.
In the morning, in the Headmaster's office.
At this moment, Dumbledore, seated behind his desk, was looking at Wesson with an odd expression.
"Could you say that again, Wesson?" He seemed not to have heard clearly.
"I've already made myself quite clear, Professor Dumbledore," Wesson shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "As hard as it is to believe, the pet by Ron Weasley's side really is an Animagus."
Dumbledore fell silent for a while, as though digesting this startling news.
"That is indeed… very unexpected," Dumbledore said slowly. "How did you discover it?"
"Careful observation," Wesson blinked. "Oh, I'm certainly not joking—that rat really is an Animagus. Of course, I don't have any evidence on me, unless Mr Weasley's rat is right in front of us and I can use an Animagus counter-charm on it."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed and his gaze sharpened.
If what Wesson said was correct…
Why would someone transform into a rat to keep a student company?
What could their intention be!
Folding his hands beneath his chin, Dumbledore went on, "Then… do you know who this Animagus is?"
Wesson spread his hands. "Not really. I can only be sure it's a wizard transformed, but who exactly—unless it reveals its original form on the spot, I can't determine it either."
"Very well," Dumbledore sighed. "Thank you for the information, Wesson. I'll have a proper talk with Ron about this."
"That would be for the best."
Wesson rose from the chair and headed for the door. "Mr Weasley is very fond of his precious rat. I hope he can be prepared."
After passing the news to Dumbledore, Wesson left the office promptly.
He would let Dumbledore worry about the rest; his task was done.
For now, he needed to think about which magical creature to prepare for the students in the upcoming lessons.
Warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass of the Gryffindor common room.
Harry was sitting on a sofa, anxiously reading that day's Daily Prophet.
It carried the latest piece on Black—Muggles had spotted Black in the vicinity of Hogwarts.
It seemed, just as everyone had said, that Black had come to Hogwarts.
Even so, while he was a little on edge, he didn't feel afraid.
After all, this was Hogwarts; Black had no chance.
Unless he was mad enough to go outside Hogwarts.
Just then, Ron and Hermione came into the common room.
"Defence Against the Dark Arts is next," the tiredness on Hermione's face seemed to have lifted a little as she said to the two of them, "Twenty minutes left. We'd better hurry—hey, Ron, what are you doing?"
Ron had his head down, staring worriedly at Scabbers in his hands.
Scabbers was curled up in Ron's palm, lifeless, his grey-brown fur looking dull and lacklustre.
Hearing Hermione, Ron looked up. "Oh—coming."
On the way, Ron kept taking Scabbers out of his pocket now and then to check on him.
Seeing how worried he was, Hermione couldn't help saying, "You really do like your Scabbers."
Ron stroked Scabbers's head and sighed. "He's really listless today. He's hardly eating anything…"
Hermione leaned in for a look and frowned. "Ron, Scabbers is already very old. It might just be that his time's about up. I remember you said he's lived far beyond the span of an ordinary rat."
Ron looked a little down. He wanted to argue, but felt Hermione was probably right.
Harry patted Ron's shoulder and comforted him. "At least he's had a good few years, yeah? Your whole family's looked after him."
Ron managed a nod and carefully put the huddled Scabbers back into his pocket.
"Are you taking him to class?" Hermione asked.
"Of course," Ron said. "I can't leave Scabbers in the dormitory. I should spend more time with him."
Harry was rather looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts.
He was sure that with Lupin's ability, he wouldn't teach as sloppily as Lockhart or Quirrell.
As it turned out, Harry was right.
The class was excellent, and nothing bad happened.
When the lesson ended, everyone was still buzzing about what they'd just done in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Professor Lupin had brought them a magical creature—a Boggart.
This creature could see into a person's heart and become what that person feared most.
The charm to deal with it was "Riddikulus."
Ron's Boggart became a gigantic spider.
Hermione's Boggart turned into Professor McGonagall—that "Professor McGonagall" told her she had failed all her exams.
Honestly, it was a bit funny, but for Hermione it made perfect sense.
Oh, and Neville's Boggart was unforgettable: it turned into Snape, and Neville made him wear a woman's dress, with lace trim.
Harry rather regretted that Colin wasn't there; otherwise Colin could have used his ever-present camera to capture the scene.
As for Harry himself, for some reason Lupin didn't have him face the Boggart.
That left him a little disappointed.
The three of them were talking about the Boggart as they walked out of the classroom, when Lupin suddenly called out to them.
"Could you come over a moment, Mr Weasley?" Lupin called in their direction.
"Me?"
Ron pointed at himself, puzzled.
"Ah, yes," Lupin said. "It might take a little of your time. We're going to the Headmaster's office."
Hearing this, Ron turned to Harry and Hermione. "You two go on ahead. I'll be along in a bit."
Harry was immediately perplexed. What did Lupin want with Ron?
Surely it wasn't because Ron had been inattentive in class.
He didn't think Lupin would get cross over something so small.
And why the Headmaster's office?
Before leaving, Ron handed Scabbers to Harry and said, "Put him back in the dorm for me. He has to take some rat tonic now—it's in the trunk under my bed. And don't let Hermione's cat near Scabbers."
"Crookshanks wouldn't go for your rat," Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Besides, he's hardly been around me these past two days—I've no idea where he's got to."
"Oh. All right."
Harry took Scabbers.
Only then did Ron feel at ease enough to go with Lupin.
However, the moment Ron left, Scabbers began struggling frantically in Harry's hands.
"Settle down, little fellow."
It took Harry a bit of effort to get a proper hold on Scabbers—he even got bitten for his trouble.
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