Boggarts
Boggarts are insiduous creatures. They are shape shifters that take on the form of the thing most feared by the person encountering them. They feed on that emotion of fear and our beloved Severus and Hermione have all sorts of fears they keep secret. Join us as our intrepid heroes face their innermost demons!
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Return of The Inverted Boggart by Lana Manckir
THE BOGGART OF ERISED by A. Vulgarweed
The Colour of the Night by btvshond
Falling by warded_portal
Hardest of Hearts by faliah
A Success, of Sorts by teabiscuit
The Right Time by rhitmcshanm
Severus’ Boggart by ancientgirl
The Inverted Boggart... Strikes again by Lana Manckir
Redivivus by ayerf
Stare Fear in the Face by KookieEvans
Circus Caper by astopperindeath
1. The trunk shook violently with the two creatures inside.
Hermione had been watching the whole interaction with apprehensive eyes. She heard about the Boggart found in the Girls' bathroom, and the new creature had been added to their Defense Against The Dark Arts' books ever since. They even had to learn the spell on how to get rid of it, but thankfully, she didn't have to practice on a real one, for they were very rare to come by. That would surely have been embarrassing, having her Boggart turn into Professor Snape in front of the whole class.
"Miss Granger!" Snape called.
"Yes Sir?"
"I trust you know the spell to get rid of these creatures?" he asked.
"Y-yes but..." Her legs were starting to feel like there were no bones to support them.
"Come over here, I can't get rid of two Boggarts at the same time, so you're going to have to take one of them," he said waving his hand.
"Sir, I never practiced on a real one, I'm not sure I can do that," she said knowing full well she could do it.
"What is it Miss Granger, afraid of what it might turn in to?" he asked with a smirk.
'This will be fun,' he thought seeing the tortured look on her face. He knew what he desired most wasn't anything that everyone didn't already know about, for the one in the girls' bathroom had turned into an Order of Merlin award.
"No, I ... I don't really think it's a good idea... I - I'm not very good with Boggarts," she stuttered nervously.
"My, my... I didn't think I would live to see Miss know-it-all refuse to show off her many talents," he said silkily, causing her to shiver.
2. He finished his grading near the end of the hour. She hadn't come looking for him, and he didn't know why that should irk him even more than her easy familiarity with his classroom. He stabbed the quill back into its rest. He found his hands arranging the stack of publications. She still might enjoy them. And it would give him an excuse to collect them later. Oh bollocks. He really did fancy her, didn't he. How completely pathetic. He stalked out of his office, dour as ever, and froze.
She was standing beside his desk staring at the stones beneath her feet. Her eyes were the size of saucers and her face had gone bone white. One hand gripped the edge of the desk as if her life depended on it. In the other, she held the miniaturized trunk in a death grip. It took him half a heartbeat to realize what had happened and to act.
He strode around the desk, coming as close to her as he could while still maintaining a safe distance from the grasping tendrils of the spell. He set the texts down gently, silently cursing his own carelessness.
"Professor, listen to me very carefully." He kept his voice low. None of the students had noticed anything was amiss and he intended to keep it that way. "What you have in your hand is the most insidious boggart I have ever had the pleasure of studying. It does not limit itself to simple fears, as you by now have no doubt discovered. I want you to look at me. No, don't look at it. Look at me."
His voice was warm and low. In the distant part of her mind that wasn't frozen in abject terror, she marveled at the gentleness of his tone. She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his gaze. When she spoke, her voice was a strangled whisper. "If I move, I'll fall."
Bloody hell. This was much worse than he expected. There was no Riddikulus to cast against a fear of heights. "You're not going to fall. I won't let you. But I need you to concentrate. I need you to use that brilliant mind of yours for a moment. Can you do that for me?"
3. Hermione came before the Boggart last, to be faced with the last of the manifestations she had faced in her third year Defence exam. None of the students were aware that this was not a different fear. Exclamations of muted surprise came from Potter and Weasley, as both were still recovering from their own fears.
Boggart Hermione stepped forward, but this time the real Hermione didn’t back away. There was no difference in their ages now, the only variations being the entirely black eyes, blood red robes and menacing aura of Boggart Hermione.
This time the Boggart said nothing, glowering at Hermione. Was it possible that the Dark creature had a hive memory and already knew what had been said before? Hermione glared back, only to be caught by surprise when Boggart Hermione lashed out with a clenched fist.
At first, the observing students laughed when Hermione fell back, only for that derisive laughter to falter when they realised that her nose was bleeding from the contact. Severus went for his wand, yet when he had the ebony shaft in his grip, his mind was blank. Hadn’t he assured his students that they couldn’t be physically damaged by the Boggart?
The sight of an incandescent spark jumping from Boggart Hermione’s outstretched hand to the original alarmed him. The heat radiating from it threatened to singe his hair from his position across the room, yet Hermione barely flinched when it settled on her bare skin. An incoherent cry of rage escaped the Boggart at the apparent failure of the attack. The appearance of a lethal looking dagger in Boggart Hermione’s hands galvanised Severus into action.
‘Expelliarmus!’ The non-verbal spell sent the dagger flying out of the Boggart’s hands, almost striking Severus before it vanished. Hermione hadn’t been frozen with fear either; even as the Boggart was knocked off its feet, a well placed kick from her knocked it out. It seemed to retain its form even when out for the count.
4. She could not find him. Three months had passed without incident- without any foreknowledge of possible incidents, at any rate. Then that feeling had hit her; she needed to get there now, that very instant. Her mind had given her no chance for other thoughts, and she ran for the public bathrooms in a dizzy blur of motion. With the stall door locked firmly, she’d Apparated.
But the flat was empty. The car port as well. She checked each room carefully, running spells against glamours, and peering behind furniture spaces, ignoring the irrationality of her rationale. The feeling continued to persist, and with an almost desperate energy, she at last tacked down to her stomach and sought out the last hiding space she could think of. From beneath his doctored up bed, she saw what had to be an hours old corpse. It was his, she saw immediately.
She inhaled sharply, a gasp of breath that gave her a taste of the air. Almonds, she recognized; cyanide, she realized. The gasp was repeated, and then again, until it became a full attack of closed lungs and harsh pain that clung to her throat and stung her eyes. She had been too late. It was with a sense of the ironic that she began to cry: like so many times before, he drove her to tears.
“Riddikulus.”
The word uttered met her ears without comprehension. It took the pressure of his blood driven hand on her cheek to give it meaning. Not suicide then; she staggered to her feet.
“A boggart, Granger. Only a boggart.”
5. It was too easy, and Severus looked immediately at the cupboard. After all these years, was that blasted Lupin still in the habit of storing his teaching-aids in hazardous places? No doubt, and indeed, as he started to reach for the handle, the cupboard burst open, and an all-too-familiar hooded, masked figure stepped forward.
Severus rolled his eyes. The symbolism was just too stupidly obvious: what had admittedly frightened the gibbering bejeezus out of him the first few times was by now simply patronizing. Yet something about the feel of this particular boggart manifestation -- infestation, rather -- was slightly different in timbre and tone. With a slow graceful motion, the boggart-hand rose to the boggart-face and peeled away the expressionless mask to reveal, as usual, the image of seventeen-year-old Severus Snape, budding Potions master and passionate young Death Eater, black eyes blazing with the radiant but vapid fervor of the recent convert. The boy moved with a new-found arrogance, trying on a sense of mastery and finding it fit him well, completely oblivious to the slightest possibility of defeat or moral crisis. Repugnant. Horrifying.
And moving towards him as no boggart had quite dared before. Forty-year-old actual-Severus began working to muster up the disdain for a good "Riddikulus," and was nearly about to burst into harsh laughter, when it was silenced right out of him from sheer shock.
6. Hermione had learnt much under Snape in the past seven months despite his curt ways and mean tongue. She fully understood the advantages students could have if Snape were the professor for DADA. Or maybe not, her mind wondered a little, as the Boggart became seemingly weaker. Neville, for one, still had not fully overcome his fear for Snape, even though he had truly broken out of his nervous shell to become one of the bravest lads around. His parents would not have been disappointed by how their son had become if they were sane enough to know. Hermione's warm glow of pride for her friend became tinged with sadness at the thought. She frowned as the Boggart swiftly, in an effort to disarm her, turn into Neville crouching and whimpering gibberish. It was as if the Boggart had read her mind and was now taunting her.
Gritting her teeth in frustration at the illogical fear that flooded her, Hermione aimed her wand at Boggart-Neville, willing it to be subdued. This was a Boggart. It was not real. If she could not defeat it, how could she imagine defeating a Dementor, or a Death-Eater?
Severus watched from a corner of the empty, candle-lit staff room as Granger fought the Boggart. He had heard from Lupin of how she had failed to overcome the last one in her third year. This was now his test for her, to see if she had been worth all the time and effort he had spent on her.
It was not to say he had not enjoyed teaching her. On the contrary, the seven months had been… interesting.
7. That night, the dream started the same way. A split-second after the “thump” from the fireplace, she summoned her wand and, pointing it towards the fireplace screamed, "Riddikulus". She knew the Death Eaters weren’t boggarts, but nightmares might as well be dream-boggarts, so it was worth trying.
The fireplace glowed green, and Hermione gripped her wand, waiting to cast all the Dark curses she’d been too afraid to try casting when awake. This was her dream; she would be in control no matter what.
Nothing could prepare her for the treat her subconscious was about to give her. Absolutely nothing.
~~&&~~
Instead of Lucius, Bellatrix, and Greyback calmly walking out of her fire, she heard an effeminate screech and several muffled curses. It seemed as if the Death Eaters were stuck inside her chimney! Slowly, like clowns coming out of a clown car, the trio rolled out onto the hearth.
It was more like clowns in a clown-car than she ever could have realized. Her giggle woke Severus, who shot up and grabbed his wand. Hermione began sniggering uncontrollably.
“What in the bloody fuck is going on, Hermione?”
8. She returned her attention to stirring her potion, but her concentration was broken almost immediately by a loud crash from the storeroom. Moments later, Snape burst back into the room.
Startled, Hermione half-stood, eyes questioning.
“Boggart,” Snape gasped, leaning heavily against the door. “Jumped out of the shadows and surprised me.”
“Did you take care of it?” Hermione asked, surprised by the amount of…fear? Was that fear in Severus’ eyes? The man who had actually spit in Voldemort’s face during the last battle was afraid? Of course, boggarts did take on the shape of your worst fears… “What form did it have?” she asked, trying to reconcile the obviously terrified man in front of her with the man she had known for nearly two decades.
He just shook his head. Hermione wasn’t sure if that meant he didn’t kill it or he didn’t want to tell her what form it took. “Was it Voldemort?” she asked. Again, the only answer was a silent shake of his head. For the life of her, Hermione could not figure out what Severus might have seen that would have frightened him so badly. As far as she knew, he wasn’t frightened of snakes-that would be rather ironic in a Slytherin, spiders, dementors, the moon, or any of the other things that her friends feared. Deciding that some levity might draw a response from him she asked, “ Was it a werewolf?" Nothing. "Was it Sirius?”
Snape’s head snapped up. “You think I am afraid of Sirius Black?” he thundered moving away from the shut door.
9. "Now." Snape brought his thoughts back to the present as he gestured towards an old, worn cupboard. "This subject is completely foolish to teach students in their final year, but the Headmistress felt we should review everything you have learnt so far. Personally I doubt you dunderheads have learnt anything so far."
He was interrupted as the cupboard gave a violent wobble, rattling against the wall.
"As you may have guessed, today you will be reviewing the subject of Boggarts."
Excited whispers and some laughter filled the room as the teenagers remembered in their third year when a Boggart Snape had been forced to wear a dress. Snape eyed Neville warily and hoped to God the boy had a new fear : the man had had enough ridicule to last a lifetime, and that was just in his duration in Hogwarts.
Snape noticed Ron dig Harry in the ribs with his elbow, and mutter something that made them both chuckle and glance over at the Professor.
"Ah, Mr Weasley, thank you so much for volunteering to go first."
Severus smirked as the grin fell straight off the red head's face. Ron stumbled forward, pulling his wand from his robes, and stared at the cupboard with a great look of apprehension in his eyes. Snape took a long step backwards, then made the cupboard doors fly open by flicking his wand.
10. Hermione grimaced as the boggart erupted out of the closet behind her. She had been cleaning the cellar of Number 12, where Harry kept all the undesirable artefacts, until she had knocked the broom backwards. Of course, this would have meant nothing to her had the broom handle not met with the handle of the closet behind her.
She didn't dare turn around. She had no idea what she would see anymore; in Defence Class many had joked her boggart would be McGonagall expelling her, or worse, but in truth, she was a more complicated person than that.
In the darkness of the cellar, she could admit her life was infinitely more complicated than most gave her credit for.
Her parents had never understood Hogwarts, and she could never expect them to be a part of this world she had found, but that didn't mean it was easy to get along without their support. As she herself became more immersed in the frightening world of magic, and Voldemort, her parents' love grew dimmer, and more distant. Letters once frequent and lengthy turned into bitter questions about when she was coming home, and her academic scores, finally turning into small answers to her own questions. Admittedly, she had even stopped sending letters after her parents told her the neighbours were questioning the presence of the owls.
Then there were her classmates.
Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Return of The Inverted Boggart by Lana Manckir
THE BOGGART OF ERISED by A. Vulgarweed
The Colour of the Night by btvshond
Falling by warded_portal
Hardest of Hearts by faliah
A Success, of Sorts by teabiscuit
The Right Time by rhitmcshanm
Severus’ Boggart by ancientgirl
The Inverted Boggart... Strikes again by Lana Manckir
Redivivus by ayerf
Stare Fear in the Face by KookieEvans
Circus Caper by astopperindeath
1. The trunk shook violently with the two creatures inside.
Hermione had been watching the whole interaction with apprehensive eyes. She heard about the Boggart found in the Girls' bathroom, and the new creature had been added to their Defense Against The Dark Arts' books ever since. They even had to learn the spell on how to get rid of it, but thankfully, she didn't have to practice on a real one, for they were very rare to come by. That would surely have been embarrassing, having her Boggart turn into Professor Snape in front of the whole class.
"Miss Granger!" Snape called.
"Yes Sir?"
"I trust you know the spell to get rid of these creatures?" he asked.
"Y-yes but..." Her legs were starting to feel like there were no bones to support them.
"Come over here, I can't get rid of two Boggarts at the same time, so you're going to have to take one of them," he said waving his hand.
"Sir, I never practiced on a real one, I'm not sure I can do that," she said knowing full well she could do it.
"What is it Miss Granger, afraid of what it might turn in to?" he asked with a smirk.
'This will be fun,' he thought seeing the tortured look on her face. He knew what he desired most wasn't anything that everyone didn't already know about, for the one in the girls' bathroom had turned into an Order of Merlin award.
"No, I ... I don't really think it's a good idea... I - I'm not very good with Boggarts," she stuttered nervously.
"My, my... I didn't think I would live to see Miss know-it-all refuse to show off her many talents," he said silkily, causing her to shiver.
2. He finished his grading near the end of the hour. She hadn't come looking for him, and he didn't know why that should irk him even more than her easy familiarity with his classroom. He stabbed the quill back into its rest. He found his hands arranging the stack of publications. She still might enjoy them. And it would give him an excuse to collect them later. Oh bollocks. He really did fancy her, didn't he. How completely pathetic. He stalked out of his office, dour as ever, and froze.
She was standing beside his desk staring at the stones beneath her feet. Her eyes were the size of saucers and her face had gone bone white. One hand gripped the edge of the desk as if her life depended on it. In the other, she held the miniaturized trunk in a death grip. It took him half a heartbeat to realize what had happened and to act.
He strode around the desk, coming as close to her as he could while still maintaining a safe distance from the grasping tendrils of the spell. He set the texts down gently, silently cursing his own carelessness.
"Professor, listen to me very carefully." He kept his voice low. None of the students had noticed anything was amiss and he intended to keep it that way. "What you have in your hand is the most insidious boggart I have ever had the pleasure of studying. It does not limit itself to simple fears, as you by now have no doubt discovered. I want you to look at me. No, don't look at it. Look at me."
His voice was warm and low. In the distant part of her mind that wasn't frozen in abject terror, she marveled at the gentleness of his tone. She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his gaze. When she spoke, her voice was a strangled whisper. "If I move, I'll fall."
Bloody hell. This was much worse than he expected. There was no Riddikulus to cast against a fear of heights. "You're not going to fall. I won't let you. But I need you to concentrate. I need you to use that brilliant mind of yours for a moment. Can you do that for me?"
3. Hermione came before the Boggart last, to be faced with the last of the manifestations she had faced in her third year Defence exam. None of the students were aware that this was not a different fear. Exclamations of muted surprise came from Potter and Weasley, as both were still recovering from their own fears.
Boggart Hermione stepped forward, but this time the real Hermione didn’t back away. There was no difference in their ages now, the only variations being the entirely black eyes, blood red robes and menacing aura of Boggart Hermione.
This time the Boggart said nothing, glowering at Hermione. Was it possible that the Dark creature had a hive memory and already knew what had been said before? Hermione glared back, only to be caught by surprise when Boggart Hermione lashed out with a clenched fist.
At first, the observing students laughed when Hermione fell back, only for that derisive laughter to falter when they realised that her nose was bleeding from the contact. Severus went for his wand, yet when he had the ebony shaft in his grip, his mind was blank. Hadn’t he assured his students that they couldn’t be physically damaged by the Boggart?
The sight of an incandescent spark jumping from Boggart Hermione’s outstretched hand to the original alarmed him. The heat radiating from it threatened to singe his hair from his position across the room, yet Hermione barely flinched when it settled on her bare skin. An incoherent cry of rage escaped the Boggart at the apparent failure of the attack. The appearance of a lethal looking dagger in Boggart Hermione’s hands galvanised Severus into action.
‘Expelliarmus!’ The non-verbal spell sent the dagger flying out of the Boggart’s hands, almost striking Severus before it vanished. Hermione hadn’t been frozen with fear either; even as the Boggart was knocked off its feet, a well placed kick from her knocked it out. It seemed to retain its form even when out for the count.
4. She could not find him. Three months had passed without incident- without any foreknowledge of possible incidents, at any rate. Then that feeling had hit her; she needed to get there now, that very instant. Her mind had given her no chance for other thoughts, and she ran for the public bathrooms in a dizzy blur of motion. With the stall door locked firmly, she’d Apparated.
But the flat was empty. The car port as well. She checked each room carefully, running spells against glamours, and peering behind furniture spaces, ignoring the irrationality of her rationale. The feeling continued to persist, and with an almost desperate energy, she at last tacked down to her stomach and sought out the last hiding space she could think of. From beneath his doctored up bed, she saw what had to be an hours old corpse. It was his, she saw immediately.
She inhaled sharply, a gasp of breath that gave her a taste of the air. Almonds, she recognized; cyanide, she realized. The gasp was repeated, and then again, until it became a full attack of closed lungs and harsh pain that clung to her throat and stung her eyes. She had been too late. It was with a sense of the ironic that she began to cry: like so many times before, he drove her to tears.
“Riddikulus.”
The word uttered met her ears without comprehension. It took the pressure of his blood driven hand on her cheek to give it meaning. Not suicide then; she staggered to her feet.
“A boggart, Granger. Only a boggart.”
5. It was too easy, and Severus looked immediately at the cupboard. After all these years, was that blasted Lupin still in the habit of storing his teaching-aids in hazardous places? No doubt, and indeed, as he started to reach for the handle, the cupboard burst open, and an all-too-familiar hooded, masked figure stepped forward.
Severus rolled his eyes. The symbolism was just too stupidly obvious: what had admittedly frightened the gibbering bejeezus out of him the first few times was by now simply patronizing. Yet something about the feel of this particular boggart manifestation -- infestation, rather -- was slightly different in timbre and tone. With a slow graceful motion, the boggart-hand rose to the boggart-face and peeled away the expressionless mask to reveal, as usual, the image of seventeen-year-old Severus Snape, budding Potions master and passionate young Death Eater, black eyes blazing with the radiant but vapid fervor of the recent convert. The boy moved with a new-found arrogance, trying on a sense of mastery and finding it fit him well, completely oblivious to the slightest possibility of defeat or moral crisis. Repugnant. Horrifying.
And moving towards him as no boggart had quite dared before. Forty-year-old actual-Severus began working to muster up the disdain for a good "Riddikulus," and was nearly about to burst into harsh laughter, when it was silenced right out of him from sheer shock.
6. Hermione had learnt much under Snape in the past seven months despite his curt ways and mean tongue. She fully understood the advantages students could have if Snape were the professor for DADA. Or maybe not, her mind wondered a little, as the Boggart became seemingly weaker. Neville, for one, still had not fully overcome his fear for Snape, even though he had truly broken out of his nervous shell to become one of the bravest lads around. His parents would not have been disappointed by how their son had become if they were sane enough to know. Hermione's warm glow of pride for her friend became tinged with sadness at the thought. She frowned as the Boggart swiftly, in an effort to disarm her, turn into Neville crouching and whimpering gibberish. It was as if the Boggart had read her mind and was now taunting her.
Gritting her teeth in frustration at the illogical fear that flooded her, Hermione aimed her wand at Boggart-Neville, willing it to be subdued. This was a Boggart. It was not real. If she could not defeat it, how could she imagine defeating a Dementor, or a Death-Eater?
Severus watched from a corner of the empty, candle-lit staff room as Granger fought the Boggart. He had heard from Lupin of how she had failed to overcome the last one in her third year. This was now his test for her, to see if she had been worth all the time and effort he had spent on her.
It was not to say he had not enjoyed teaching her. On the contrary, the seven months had been… interesting.
7. That night, the dream started the same way. A split-second after the “thump” from the fireplace, she summoned her wand and, pointing it towards the fireplace screamed, "Riddikulus". She knew the Death Eaters weren’t boggarts, but nightmares might as well be dream-boggarts, so it was worth trying.
The fireplace glowed green, and Hermione gripped her wand, waiting to cast all the Dark curses she’d been too afraid to try casting when awake. This was her dream; she would be in control no matter what.
Nothing could prepare her for the treat her subconscious was about to give her. Absolutely nothing.
~~&&~~
Instead of Lucius, Bellatrix, and Greyback calmly walking out of her fire, she heard an effeminate screech and several muffled curses. It seemed as if the Death Eaters were stuck inside her chimney! Slowly, like clowns coming out of a clown car, the trio rolled out onto the hearth.
It was more like clowns in a clown-car than she ever could have realized. Her giggle woke Severus, who shot up and grabbed his wand. Hermione began sniggering uncontrollably.
“What in the bloody fuck is going on, Hermione?”
8. She returned her attention to stirring her potion, but her concentration was broken almost immediately by a loud crash from the storeroom. Moments later, Snape burst back into the room.
Startled, Hermione half-stood, eyes questioning.
“Boggart,” Snape gasped, leaning heavily against the door. “Jumped out of the shadows and surprised me.”
“Did you take care of it?” Hermione asked, surprised by the amount of…fear? Was that fear in Severus’ eyes? The man who had actually spit in Voldemort’s face during the last battle was afraid? Of course, boggarts did take on the shape of your worst fears… “What form did it have?” she asked, trying to reconcile the obviously terrified man in front of her with the man she had known for nearly two decades.
He just shook his head. Hermione wasn’t sure if that meant he didn’t kill it or he didn’t want to tell her what form it took. “Was it Voldemort?” she asked. Again, the only answer was a silent shake of his head. For the life of her, Hermione could not figure out what Severus might have seen that would have frightened him so badly. As far as she knew, he wasn’t frightened of snakes-that would be rather ironic in a Slytherin, spiders, dementors, the moon, or any of the other things that her friends feared. Deciding that some levity might draw a response from him she asked, “ Was it a werewolf?" Nothing. "Was it Sirius?”
Snape’s head snapped up. “You think I am afraid of Sirius Black?” he thundered moving away from the shut door.
9. "Now." Snape brought his thoughts back to the present as he gestured towards an old, worn cupboard. "This subject is completely foolish to teach students in their final year, but the Headmistress felt we should review everything you have learnt so far. Personally I doubt you dunderheads have learnt anything so far."
He was interrupted as the cupboard gave a violent wobble, rattling against the wall.
"As you may have guessed, today you will be reviewing the subject of Boggarts."
Excited whispers and some laughter filled the room as the teenagers remembered in their third year when a Boggart Snape had been forced to wear a dress. Snape eyed Neville warily and hoped to God the boy had a new fear : the man had had enough ridicule to last a lifetime, and that was just in his duration in Hogwarts.
Snape noticed Ron dig Harry in the ribs with his elbow, and mutter something that made them both chuckle and glance over at the Professor.
"Ah, Mr Weasley, thank you so much for volunteering to go first."
Severus smirked as the grin fell straight off the red head's face. Ron stumbled forward, pulling his wand from his robes, and stared at the cupboard with a great look of apprehension in his eyes. Snape took a long step backwards, then made the cupboard doors fly open by flicking his wand.
10. Hermione grimaced as the boggart erupted out of the closet behind her. She had been cleaning the cellar of Number 12, where Harry kept all the undesirable artefacts, until she had knocked the broom backwards. Of course, this would have meant nothing to her had the broom handle not met with the handle of the closet behind her.
She didn't dare turn around. She had no idea what she would see anymore; in Defence Class many had joked her boggart would be McGonagall expelling her, or worse, but in truth, she was a more complicated person than that.
In the darkness of the cellar, she could admit her life was infinitely more complicated than most gave her credit for.
Her parents had never understood Hogwarts, and she could never expect them to be a part of this world she had found, but that didn't mean it was easy to get along without their support. As she herself became more immersed in the frightening world of magic, and Voldemort, her parents' love grew dimmer, and more distant. Letters once frequent and lengthy turned into bitter questions about when she was coming home, and her academic scores, finally turning into small answers to her own questions. Admittedly, she had even stopped sending letters after her parents told her the neighbours were questioning the presence of the owls.
Then there were her classmates.