Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

“Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?”

“Er—yes,” said Neville nervously. “But—I don’t want the Boggart to turn into her either.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” said Professor Lupin, now smiling. “I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?”

Neville looked startled, but said, “Well… always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox fur scarf.”

“And a handbag?” prompted Professor Lupin.

“A big red one,” said Neville.

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind’s eye?”

“Yes,” said Neville uncertainty, plainly wondering what was coming next.

“When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape,” said Lupin. “And you will raise your wand—thus—and cry ‘Riddikulus’—and concentrate hard on your grandmother’s clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.”

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

“If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” said Professor Lupin. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…”

The room went quiet. Harry thought… What scared him most in the world?

His first thought was Lord Voldemort—a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a Boggart Voldemort, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind…

A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth… then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning…

Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, “Take its legs off!” Harry was sure he knew what that was about. Ron’s greatest fear was spiders.

“Everyone ready?” said Professor Lupin.

Harry felt a lurch of fear. He wasn’t ready. How could you make a Dementor less frightening? But he didn’t want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

“Neville, we’re going to back away,” said Professor Lupin. “Let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward… Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot—”

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

“On the count of three, Neville,” said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. “One—two—three—now!”

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

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Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off putting, but Harry had a go.	\|	Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

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