AN: For the judges, reserves, fellow players, and all those who took part in this experience and enriched it: thank you.

Pride of Portree

Worst Fears

Dean's mind raced as his first classmate stepped forward to face the Boggart. He had known that the professors usually liked to start each year with a bang, but this was something else. He could feel the dread festering in the pit of his stomach. It sounded cool to laugh at one's worst fear. But to have to face it? To let the whole class see it? That was terrifying—and more than a little humiliating. He didn't want to know his classmates' worst fears, and he really didn't want them to know his. In fact, he didn't want to know what his worst fear was, either.

If it was Lockhart, he could have tricked him into believing he had already had his turn, but he didn't think it would work on Lupin. Perhaps he could just ask the professor to let him sit the lesson out? It would be embarrassing, but it would be much easier than facing that nightmare. What did he even fear the most?

Spiders, snakes…

There was a niggling feeling in the back of his head. There had to be something… He disliked spiders, true, and those slimy reptiles could make him yell like a little girl—there was a reason why he kept distance from Slytherins—but neither felt quite right when combined with the phrase 'worst fear'. To him, the worst fear of a person should be something too terrible to even contemplate—the kind of thing that caused an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach—and neither spiders nor snakes brought out that sort of deep, unshakeable dread.

He was jolted out of his musing as the line started to move forward. His heart hammered loudly against his chest as he shuffled a few steps closer to the inevitable.

He ran away from the classroom, deaf to the calls that followed him. That wasn't… that couldn't be true… except it very well could be. He had no idea who his father was. So who was to say that the man wasn't one of the Death Eaters? For all he knew, the man could have been one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's staunchest supporters. His mother had never spoken a word about him, and he couldn't blame her if this was the reason why. Dean certainly wouldn't want to.

Slumping into an alcove, Dean took a few deep breaths, hoping to still his racing heart. It was of no use. He had seen what he had seen, and it had been worse than what he had expected. How had Professor Lupin even managed to tame it? He groaned in embarrassment as he remembered the way he had fled—nobody else had, and they were all facing their worst fears, too. Heck, even Neville had managed it—but then again, Neville apparently did it every day. No wonder he was always so nervous in Potions. It was a surprise he even showed up.

Dean wasn't sure how he would be able to return to DADA again. Heck, he wasn't sure how he was going to face his dorm-mates.

The sound of shoes tapping against the stone floor echoed down the corridor, and he moved further into the alcove to avoid being seen. He knew he would have to deal with people eventually, but right now, he just couldn't.

Merlin seemed to be laughing at him as the footsteps slowed right beside the alcove where he was hiding.

"Dean?" asked Harry quietly. Dean held his breath; maybe if he didn't answer Harry would move away.

He didn't.

Harry sighed and leaned casually against a wall. "Are you alright? That was a tough class."

Dean shrugged with a weak smile. "Yeah, it's just a surprising thing to see in a place like Hogwarts."

"You have no idea," muttered Harry, but instead of elaborating, he said, "It doesn't mean it's real, you know."

Dean nodded, but he couldn't shake off the fact that it very well could be—nor could he get the image of the black cloak and distinctive silver mask being placed on a disturbingly familiar face out of his head. He had grown up with the idea that it was the superheroes who wore the capes. The reality was jarring.

Harry frowned at him and shook his head ruefully. "Of course, for all I know, my father was an arrogant bully like Snape has been insisting for the past three years."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Snape is Snape," he said with a small laugh. "I don't think your father could have been a bully. James Potter is remembered positively by everyone other than Snape, so what do you think is more likely?"

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "I guess we'll never know."

There was a moment of silence. "Do you want to go back to the lesson?" asked Harry.

Dean shook his head. "Not right now. I need some time to think."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Thanks, but no. I'll probably just go for a walk."

Harry nodded in understanding and patted Dean on the shoulder. "I'm off, then, but remember, it's not real. Boggarts are meant to shake you up."

Dean watched as the other boy headed back down the corridor, but before he turned the corner, Harry looked back over his shoulder and added: "Besides, you are not your father. And I'd believe Snape over a Boggart any day."