Malfoy was unsurprisingly being a dramatic little prick about the whole arm thing. He didn't reappear in classes until late Tuesday morning, when everyone was halfway through a double Potions class. He burst into the dungeon like he owned the place, his right arm covered in bandages, and acting like he had been injured after saving a group of children from a fire.

"How is it, Draco?" asked Pansy Parkinson when Malfoy approached her. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace, and Ben had to look away to contain the anger he made him feel.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape told him in a surprisingly calm tone. But, well, everybody knew that Snape didn't hate Malfoy.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right between Ron and Ben, pushing the blonde aside on purpose to separate him from his friends, and they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm-"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," ordered Snape without looking up.

Ron went brick red.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked across the table. "Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."

Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

"Be thankful it's not your left arm," mumbled Ben, glaring at the Slytherin.

Harry chuckled at that, but stopped when Professor Snape approached them to observe the roots. "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

Ron's jaw dropped in horror. "But, sir-!"

The poor boy had spent a really long time carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces to make sure the potion was made correctly.

"Now," hissed Snape in his most dangerous voice, and Ron angrily threw his roots to Malfoy.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," added Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.

Harry took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.

"None of your business," snapped Ron jerkily.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury-"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.

"–he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" he continued. "Who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

"Yes, Malfoy, you're probably going to need to have it cut off."

Right after Ben said that, Harry accidentally cut off a dead caterpillar's head.

"So that's why you're putting it on," he hissed. "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," whispered Malfoy, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned-

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see.

"Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one cat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," pleaded Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right-"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted her coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

"That's animal cruelty," stated Ben loudly.

Snape, who had already started to go back to his place, stopped walking and turned to him.

"What did you say, Walker?"

"I said that your suggestion is considered animal cruelty," he repeated, not as loudly as before, but still confidently. "If he doesn't manage to fix the potion it could kill Trevor."

"In that case he should stop being incompetent and make the potion correctly."

And he moved away, leaving Neville with a horrified expression, and Ben with a furious one. His mind was running quickly as he tried to find a way of helping Neville, when Malfoy suddenly called for him.

"Walker."

"What do you want now?" he said lazily, deep in thought.

Malfoy stared at Ben for a couple of seconds, eyes narrowed, and whispered, "I want to talk to you."

"Well I don't want to talk to you," he snapped. "So go back to doing your potion."

"I assure you that you do."

"What is it about, then?" asked Ben

"About something I can talk about here."

Ben tapped the spoon against the rim of the cauldron so it wouldn't drip, and set it down on the table to turn to face Malfoy. "Why? Is it a secret? Because then I might be interested."

"It's not a secret, you gossip," Malfoy rolled his grey eyes. "It's a deal I want to make with you."

———————————————

Ben would be lying if he said he wasn't curious about what Malfoy had in mind. He didn't really fancy the idea of meeting him after curfew, but he also didn't want anybody to think he got along with Malfoy, and it was obvious the Slytherin didn't want that either, so there was no other choice.

The next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Gryffindors were a bit nervous, due to the fact that they would have a new teacher, but everyone had decided to believe that Professor Lupin couldn't be any worse than Snape. Luckily, their potions class had ended up with Trevor living, but the greasy professor had found out some certain students had helped Neville with his potion, so he took five points from Gryffindor. 

It sucked, but it could've been much worse.

At the centre of the classroom, instead of the desks, chairs and chalkboard that had been there for the past two years, there was a wardrobe with a big mirror on the front. There was something inside it, and it seemed to be eager to get out, judging by the sounds coming from it.

"Intriguing, isn't it?" asked Professor Lupin from the side of the classroom, with an amused smile. "Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what is inside?"

"That's a boggart, that is," spoke Dean.

"Very good, Mr. Thomas. Now, can anybody tell me what a boggart looks like?"

"No one knows," answered Hermione, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"When did she get here?" asked Ron in surprise.

Hermione ignored his questions. "Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the shape of whatever particular person fears the most. That's what makes them so-"

"So terrifying, yes..." finished Professor Lupin, approaching the wardrobe, which gave a strong shake. "Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let's practise it now. Uh, without wands, please... After me: Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!"

"Very good," smiled Professor Lupin. "A little louder and very clear. Listen. Riddikulus."

"Riddikulus!"

"This class is ridiculous," scoffed Malfoy. His gang of macaques laughed like it was the funniest, wittiest comment ever made.

"Very good! Well, so much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes the boggart is... laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain- Uh, Neville. Will you join me, please? Come on, don't be shy... Come on."

Neville, pale in the face, hesitantly walked his way over to the wardrobe.

"Hello," greeted Professor Lupin. "Now, Neville, what frightens you most of all?"

The Gryffindor stammered something the rest of the students couldn't hear.

"I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

"Professor Snape," he said again, quickly but clearly.

"Professor Snape," repeated Lupin with a chuckle as the others cackled.

Ben wasn't sure if it was something to be considered funny, but wasn't willing to start an argument with the rest of his classmates, so he didn't speak and stared at Neville, wishing he could encourage him telepathically.

"I believe you live with your grandmother?" continued Professor Lupin.

Neville turned even paler. "Y-Yes... But I don't want that boggart to turn into her either!"

Professor Lupin chuckled. "No, it won't. I want you to picture her clothes. Only her clothes- very clearly, in your mind."

"She carries a red handbag," the brunette began thoughtfully.

"We don't need to hear. As long as you see it, we'll see it."

Ben froze as he realised what was going to happen. The boggart was going to turn into Neville's worst fear in front of everyone. Was Professor Lupin going to make them all try the spell? He didn't want people to know what he feared the most, especially because even he didn't know what it was...

The wardrobe's door opening took him out of his thoughts. Snape walked out of it, and headed for Neville. "Think, Neville, think!" instructed Lupin.

"R-Riddikulus!" he squeaked.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

Everybody roared in laughter, which made the Boggart stop, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati Patil stepped forward, determination clear in her eyes. There was another crack, and where Snape had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising...

"Riddikulus!"

A bandage unravelled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off. "Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin.

Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face. She was banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek.

But Seamus shouted louder than her, "Riddikulus!"

"Your turn, Ben!"

Ben stepped forward nervously. The Boggart began spinning, taking a bit longer than usual to settle. And when it did, Ben let out a strangled gasp.

In front of him, stood an exact copy of himself. The boggart's hair was as brown as his; his freckles were placed in the same places as on his cheeks; and his hazel eyes sparkled in the same way.

But there was one little difference: his uniform.

The Boggart's one wasn't red and gold, but green and silver. On the black robe, there was a symbol with a snake: the Slytherin house crest. He felt his heartbeat rise dangerously, but tried to calm down.

He began raising his wand towards... himself? And the Boggart suddenly rolled up his sleeve, revealing something that made him take a step back. Ben didn't want to look at his arm, because he knew perfectly well what was in it.

"What are you so scared of?" hissed the Boggart, looking at him with a side smirk, his eyes glowing in evil. "You know this has always been meant to happen."

And Ben glanced at the Dark Mark on... his arm? No, the Boggart's arm. It wasn't a reflection of what was going to happen, but of what his parents wanted. He looked up to meet his eyes, projecting all the hate he felt towards that version of what he could've been, and exclaimed, "Riddikulus!"

The Boggart turned into something similar to those statues of roman emperors that are kept in museums but, instead of stone, this one was made out of chocolate. The statue of Ben was smiling in happiness as he took a bit off a chocoball.

It wasn't something comedic, but looking at Lupin had reminded him of chocolate, and that was the first thing that crossed his mind.

"Ah, I love chocolate," commented Professor Lupin, grinning at Ben from right beside him. "Well done, Ben! Now you, Dean!"

Ben ran back into the crowd, heartbeat slowing down, as Dean hurried to the front. When he turned to look at the front, there was a severed hand crawling along the floor.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean and, after a snap, the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next!"

Ron leapt forward.

Crack!

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, it looked like Ron had frozen.

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry's feet.

He raised his wand, ready, but-

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack! The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "Riddikulus!" almost lazily.

Crack!

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" exclaimed Lupin as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Ben shrieked, and ran away from it. Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone... Let me see... five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart... Ten for Neville because he did it twice... and five each to Hermione and Harry."

Harry frowned. "But I didn't do anything..."

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Professor Lupin smiled. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me... You should hand it in on Monday. That will be all."

And he dismissed the class. The Gryffindors left, chatting excitedly about what had happened. "Did you see me take that banshee?" Seamus was shouting.

"And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.

"And Snape in that hat!"

"And my mummy!"

"And what on earth did your Boggart mean, Ben?" asked Dean.

Seamus chuckled. "Are you scared of your own face?"

Both Dean and Seamus burst into laughter. Ben didn't answer. Not because he was offended; he knew they were just kidding, but because he had noticed Harry was being oddly silent, and was walking a couple of steps behind them.

"What's wrong?" he asked him.

Harry looked up. "What?"

"Did something happen?"

"No..." he answered, though it sounded more like a nonsense mumble. "Do you think Professor Lupin stopped me from tackling the Boggart? Or was it just a coincidence?"

Ben stopped to think. "I don't know... Maybe he just didn't notice you were going to do it."

"Ben, I was literally pointing my wand up towards the Boggart."

"Then perhaps it was because he already knew you're talented enough to perform the spell, and he wanted to give someone else a chance to try it out."

A faint blush tinted Harry's cheeks in response to the compliment.

"How do you always turn everything around and make it look perfect?" he chuckled.

"I guess it's a talent," shrugged Ben, grinning. "But, I promise, I doubt he thinks you're weak. Everybody knows you're not."

"But, the other day on the train- I was the only one who fainted."

Ben stopped walking. "Harry, stop torturing yourself with that. We're talking about dementors, not simple Boggarts. They're possibly one of the worst creatures you can come across with- Pretty much everybody would be affected by them."

"You didn't faint," remarked Harry.

"Because the Dementor was fixed on you. Besides, I was too worried about whatever was happening to you to think straight," he commented honestly.

They suddenly noticed that they had been standing there, talking, for some minutes, and the rest of their classmates had already left. Ron and Hermione had noticed that before Harry and Ben, because they were running down the corridor.

"Here you are!" panted Hermione.

"Why did you stop?" interrogated Ron, eyes wide open. "What happened?"

"Nothing," answered Harry. "What do we have now?"

Ron took out his timetable. "Uh... History of Magic."

"I hate History," groaned Ben.

Hermione, like every single time somebody dared to express their hatred towards any school subject, looked brutally offended. "History is very useful! It's really important to..."

And she went on explaining every single reason why it's obviously extremely crucial for their survival to show interest in the subject. 

A/N: i love ben and harry