Leave Out All The Rest

The Fears of Fifth Years

Chapter Sixteen: The Fears of Fifth Years

POV: Albus

"What's in the wardrobe?" asked Professor Alan to the class of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. His monotone matched the indifferent, sleepy expressions of the students blinking back at him as he paced the small section before his desk. "Anyone care to guess?"

The silence rung louder.

I knew what was in the bloody wardrobe—you can't have Hermione Granger as your aunt or Harry Potter as your father and not know a few things about the Dark Arts , but I could not find the energy to throw Professor Alan a bone and participate. The day had been that exhausting. Mentally, I was checked out.

Pulling his face from the crook his crossed arms made as they rested over the desk, Scorpius let out a quiet groan. "Is he still talking?" he muttered to me. "Can't we just curse the bloke? Blame Liam for it, said he came in here and knocked him out?"

I snorted. "As believable as that is, mate, we're in a classroom filled with Ravenclaws. Mess with their education and we'll be the ones to get stunned."

Scorpius buried his face back into the crook his folded arms made. I could hear him mumbling curse words. 

"Come on now," Professor Alan's voice got louder, a little harsher. "This is revision from Third Year. Surely some of you must remember the creature in the wardrobe."

Leaning closer to Scorpius' side, I murmured, "What if we just throw him in the damn wardrobe and make a run for it?"

Scorpius laughed, pulling up to look at me, but he was interrupted from whatever he was going to reply by a ball of paper hitting him over the nose. Lucas was smirking, balling another sheet of blank parchment from the desk on my left. 

"You two are not exactly whispering, you know," he said with a quiet chuckle. "Alan has been giving you two the death-eye for the past ten minutes."

"Who's hiding?" I returned.

"At least he can put us out of our misery that way," said Scorpius. "This class is ridiculous."

The three of us broke out into muffled chuckles just as someone smacked a fist over the surface of their desk. From the middle section of the classroom, a Ravenclaw girl said through clenched teeth, "It's a Boggart, damnit!" 

Professor Alan would have reacted to the audacity of the student with much more outrage, but seeing as someone was finally participating, he grinned as he said, "Correct, Miss Nott! I have no doubt you will get nothing but O's in your O.W.L's. Now," he continued, far more excited than he previously had been, turning back to his bored students, "to redeem yourselves, can anyone tell me what the appearance of a Boggart is?"

"Okay, but how's he going to redeem himself for sporting that ponytail?" I muttered to Scorpius. 

He laughed a little louder. "The ponytail isn't the issue, mate. His sandals are—"

"Potter! Malfoy!" Startling Scorpius and I, Professor Alan was standing before our desk, his fist slamming down on my closed Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. "If you two are done gossiping like two fanciful women, I need an answer to my question."

"See, I'm almost positive that is a sexist remark, Professor," I said. "My Aunt Hermione teaches a course on how language like that further damages—"

"What I'm gathering is that you don't know the answer," interrupted Professor Alan, his eyes flashing dark mirth. "Perhaps you should have your Aunt Hermione teach you something about Defense Against the Dark Arts because it is quite embarrassing you have gathered nothing in all these years. In fact, I believe your sister is a Third Year, right, Mister Potter?"