Freyja looked around nervously. What had she gotten herself into by agreeing to this? She had felt all important, volunteering to save the day at her old stomping grounds and all, but now that she was actually here... Some of that bravery was lost. She had been in Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor, after all. The fog was creepy, and though she knew it was only boggarts, they were, like, weird boggarts. She’d dealt with her fair share of boggart infestations — she had inherited her great-aunt Hildegaard’s house after the old woman had died, and there were plenty of magical nuisances around when she’d gone to clean it up — but none of them had killed anybody or created magical fog that shut down a whole school.

Still, she put on her best brave face and pushed her glasses up farther on her nose. She held her wand aloft and echoed Airey’s movements. Charms were her speciality. This part she could handle. It was just the... after this part that she wasn’t so sure about.

But wasn’t this what being a Department of Mysteries employee entailed? Sure, okay, so she was in the Love Chamber and spent most of her time thinking about the warm fuzzies that did things like offer protection to others. But who cared?! She was a mystery woman, and this fog was a mystery indeed! Kind of, anyway. Well, whatever. Here she went.