Written for the Boggart challenge by ToxicRainfall.
J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.
I pulled out the Book again from my bookbag, and I felt drawn to it, there is no other way I can describe it. I started to write in it, releasing everything that had happened in that busy week, telling it everything that had happened. Even the most insignificant of things, like how Harry had looked positively beautiful when he had run his hands through his hair that one day, or that time he had pushed up his glasses and then glanced at me. And, of course, the most amazing of all- that he had smiled at me the day before.
He looked so caring and nice and his eyes were so happy and
Are you sure that you really like the boy?
Yes, of course! I wrote back quickly, not really noticing that a book was writing back to me.
There's one way you can find out if you truly love him above all else.
What is it? How does it work? Does it work?
Yes, and it shows you what you fear the most- if you're right, it will be Harry.
I'm not scared of him! Well, shy maybe, but not scared!
It will be Harry, dead. Like he deserves...
What?
Nothing...
The Book told me of a magical creature called a boggart, and it would show me what I feared the most. The book, my treasured Book, drew me a map inside itself and I followed it until I came to an empty classroom. The Book told me that no one had entered it in years, because it was haunted by the boggart that scared everyone away. I asked it why nobody tried to get rid of it, but it told me that it was like a ghost- you couldn't just fight it or kill it.
I left the book on the floor, right next to the door I had just closed. I wondered if the boggart would just come to me, or if it was hiding and waiting to scare me by surprise. I gripped my wand tightly, my eyes flashing all around in search. I spun aroung immediately when I heard the forgotten cupboard in the corner shaking. It was in there, the boggart was, and I knew it. I swiftly walked over to it, attempting to put on a strong facade of Gryffindor bravery for the Book.
I hesitsted and leaned on the cupboard for a moment, then unlocked it with my wand, a spell Harry's friend, Hermione Granger, had kindly taught me. Maybe she shouldn't have, I thought, as a white mist floated out of the cabinet. It hovered there for a moment, and then it twisted and twirled all around until it had taken its final form. I stared at the image in horror, shocked even though I had thoughtlessly predicted this.
It was Harry, dead, and I had been right. It was no quick, Avada Kedavra, though, and that was what terrified me the most. He was lying at the feet of He Who Must Not Be Named, Lord Voldemort himself. The dark wizard pointed his wand at Harry and he-the body, it was thrashing in midair from the Cruciatus curse. I tried to yell, to get him to stop, but then he looked up, and his cold eyes looked right into mine.
"You have a great destiny, Ginevra. Embrace it, and do not fight, for that would turn out...unlucky, for your friend," Voldemort hissed. I tried to scream, but I couldn't.