I Swung a Sword at Hogwarts

The passage was narrow and cramped, forcing the three of them to walk in a single file.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Neville grew more frightened with every step. If it weren't for John behind him, he would've turned back already.

John replied casually, "A haunted house."

"What?"

Hearing it was a haunted house, Neville stopped in his tracks.

John patted him on the back and said, "Relax, I'm with you, aren't I?"

Neville wanted to say that having John there was scary enough. Luna, in her usual sing-song voice, said, "There are ghosts in Hogwarts too, aren't there?"

Among the three of them, only Neville seemed scared, which made him hate his own cowardice.

He mustered his courage and kept walking. Finally, they emerged from the passage and entered a house.

It was a messy, gray room.

The wallpaper was peeling, the floor was covered in stains, and all the furniture looked broken, as if smashed. Even the windows were boarded up.

It looked exactly like the haunted houses you imagine—the peeling wallpaper as though something terrifying had torn it apart.

It sent a chill down their spines.

Luna moved closer to John. He had forgotten that, with his Nightmarish Affinity, he didn't need light—Luna wasn't so lucky.

"Lumos."

The tip of her wand glowed, casting a comforting light.

The house was dim and eerie. John wanted to toughen Neville up, so he said, "Let's split up and look around."

Neville swallowed hard and glanced at the eerily atmospheric house, but summoned the courage to walk off on his own.

After he left, John started exploring.

The house had clearly been abandoned for a long time, but the broken furniture hinted it was once quite luxurious.

John pushed open a wooden door. The rotting hinges creaked loudly.

Luna curiously stepped inside. Her eyes held no fear. This strange girl, who had only just met John a day ago, already trusted him completely.

"This looks like a kitchen. There's a tree outside."

Through the cracks in the boarded-up window, they could see shadows of swaying branches.

Anyone faint-hearted wouldn't last long here.

"We should go find Neville Longbottom. He's probably scared."

Luna always seemed able to read people with startling clarity. John agreed—it was likely a bit too much for Neville.

They turned to search for him, but before they could find him, they heard Neville's panicked voice.

"Professor Snape, I didn't mean to!"

"No excuses, Neville Longbottom. Because of you, Gryffindor loses 100 points!"

Snape's voice was cold and merciless.

Neville was overwhelmed with horror. Losing 100 points for Gryffindor—he couldn't even imagine how the other students would scold him.

He covered his head in fear as Professor Snape approached step by step.

Outside the room, John felt something was off. Even if Snape enjoyed taking points, he wouldn't be this extreme.

Taking 100 points? That kind of punishment would only come from the Head of House.

John suddenly realized—this Snape might not be real.

Just as "Snape" moved closer to Neville, John kicked the door open.

"Stupefy!"

The red light struck the professor and blasted him into a cabinet.

John pointed his wand, calmly demanding, "Who are you?"

"No, John! You'll be expelled for attacking a teacher!"

Neville couldn't believe John had just attacked a professor. He was terrified.

But John stared hard at the "Professor Snape."

As the fake Snape looked back at John, his body twisted and turned into a swirling black mass.

After a few rotations, a freshly baked stargazy pie fell to the floor, and the fake Snape disappeared.

"What… is this?"

Even John was stunned, as was Neville.

Looking at the pie—four dead fish heads poking out, staring upward—John's face twisted in disgust.

A horrifying dish from the British Empire. It made him deeply uncomfortable.

"It shapeshifts and hides in dark places… Is this a Boggart?"

John thought for a moment and recalled a magical creature.

"I remember that a Boggart takes the form of whatever someone fears most. I can understand Neville fearing Snape… but why would I fear stargazy pie?"

He stood there silently, staring at the pie. Then it hit him—he constantly ran Occlumency in the background.

Maybe because of that, the Boggart couldn't read his true fears and turned into something he found disgusting instead.

Speechless, John glanced at the cabinet. Boggarts loved dark, narrow places.

He walked over and kicked the pie back into the cabinet, then sealed it with a spell.

"Neville, you're okay. That was a Boggart. What were you thinking about? Why did it become Snape?"

John gave Neville a strange look. While it wasn't exactly a secret that Neville feared Snape, imagining him in a place like this really showed just how afraid he was.

Neville looked embarrassed and stammered, "I remembered getting points docked last year and thought Snape might be waiting here to do it again…"

Well, poor kid.

Back in first year, he'd lost points for warning Harry and got blamed heavily—that left psychological scars.

But it had been Professor McGonagall who deducted those points. Why did he think Snape was the one lying in wait?

John glanced at Luna. The girl still didn't realize how dangerous that thing had been. She just found the Boggart fascinating because it could turn into a fish pie.

"Well, looks like today's adventure ends here."

The sky was already getting dark outside. Since they had a first-year with them, John decided not to play the part of a bad influence.

The three of them retraced their steps through the tunnel. On the way out, Neville almost got hit by the Whomping Willow.

John reacted quickly, yanking him back and freezing the tree with a spell.

Back at the castle, they went their separate ways.

"Thank you, John. Today's adventure was wonderful," Luna said dreamily, her voice like a melody.

"If you're interested, there are many fun places in Hogwarts," John replied with a wave. He still had training to do in the Room of Requirement.

On his way there, he thought about Neville.

"Maybe I should get him a proper weapon."

After all, this was the future Sword Saint of Gryffindor—the one who would one day destroy a Horcrux with a single slash.

John thought that a Sword Saint without a sword just didn't make sense.

He gathered some materials—not needing anything too fancy, just something sword-shaped.

With his current level of alchemy and Gryffindor's forging techniques, he could finish one quickly.

It was rougher than the Sword of Tilwick, but for Neville, it would be a great training tool.

The next morning, John brought it to Neville.

Neville looked confused.

John, with a meaningful smile, said, "What if—just what if—you're actually a Sword Saint?"

"...?"

Neville froze, unsure how to respond.

But John encouraged him to train well and aim to become an awesome Sword Saint in the future.

Meanwhile, Hermione sat reading Lockhart's book. After surviving one of his classes and still not giving up, John couldn't help but admire her persistence.

The power of a fangirl's delusion was truly terrifying. He hoped she'd see Lockhart's true nature soon.

After breakfast, John headed to class. They had Potions today, taught by their own Head of House.

He didn't want to be on the receiving end of Snape's deadly stare by being late.

"I've earned Gryffindor so many points, yet why does he still seem so unfriendly?"

John couldn't figure Snape out. Sure, he'd gotten into a fight at the start of term, but still—holding a grudge this long?

On the way, he bumped into Malfoy.

Malfoy gleefully told him to wait for Saturday—he planned to humiliate Gryffindor on the Quidditch field.

His father had sponsored the entire Slytherin team with Nimbus 2001s, more advanced than Harry's Nimbus 2000.

As for the rest of Gryffindor's broomsticks, they were a joke—Comets and Cleansweeps that weren't even fit for housecleaning.

Malfoy seemed to already envision himself leading Slytherin to victory.

John didn't have the heart to tell him—with Harry around, that dream might be impossible.

After all… the protagonist gets plot armor.