The dim, cool room is cloaked in an uneasy silence as Draco, Mattheo, Enzo, and Theo stand in front of the closed cabinet, each feeling a tightening grip of dread in their chests. Professor Lupin, his gaze compassionate yet steady, instructs them on the exercise, explaining how to use the “Riddikulus” spell to turn their fears into something laughable. The idea seems simple enough, but the boys know better; this isn’t an ordinary lesson. It’s personal.

Lupin unlocks the cabinet, and one by one, the boggart shifts form, revealing the source of each of their deepest fears.

*Draco stiffens as his father, Lucius, appears—tall, cold, with that unyielding, disapproving glare that has haunted him for years. "You’re a disgrace to the Malfoy name," he sneers.

*Behind him, Mattheo’s face pales as Voldemort emerges, towering over him with a terrifying calm. “You are my son. That darkness is in your blood," Voldemort taunts.

Enzo steps back, his breath hitching as Bellatrix, his mother, appears. “You’re weak, Lorenzo. You will never be like me. Weakness has no place among us," she spits, her voice chillingly void of any empathy.

And finally, Theo’s father, a ruthless death eater, appears, his cruel sneer a reminder of the merciless upbringing he’s endured. “I expected more from my son. Truly pathetic…just like your mother.”

“Riddikulus!” Lupin urges gently, his tone encouraging yet firm, snapping them from their frozen states.

They all attempt to utter the spell, but their voices barely escape their lips, each word smothered by the overwhelming dread that fills the room.

Lupin’s expression softens as he steps forward. “Sometimes, our greatest fears come from those who should have protected us,” he says quietly. “But that fear doesn’t have to define you. I believe in you.”

Lupin gives them all a nod of reassurance. “Wands at the ready, lads.”