"Right, Ron, you next!" Professor Lupin called, motioning for Ron to step forward and tackle his boggart. Clutching his wand in a death grip, Ron shuffled forward, freckles standing out sharply on his pallid face. As he neared the snake that had been tied into knots, it rose up and swirled into a different shape that made several girls shriek in fear and Ron to take a step backwards. Standing before them was a huge, vicious looking spider, eyes glaring menacingly and fangs dripping with blood.
"Ron, remember! Riddikulus!" Professor Lupin's voice shook Ron from his horrified stupor, and with much more confidence than his pallor suggested he possessed, Ron cried, "Riddikulus!" brandishing his wand at the horrible creature. With a small popping noise, the spider's legs disappeared, causing the spider's body and head to roll about freely. Ron gave out a weak chuckle as the rest of the class laughed uproariously. Professor Lupin, thrilled with his student's success, didn't notice the spider-boggart coming to a stop at Harry Potter's feet until it was too late to intervene.
Harry sighed as he took his place near the back of Professor Lupin's classroom, avoiding the students rushing to get close to the boggart. 'Really,' he thought, 'why would they be so excited about their worst fears?' But as he thought about it for a moment, he came to the conclusion that his classmates' fears were probably not as horrific as his own.
Harry gave a few moments of thought toward what his boggart could be, and came up with three likely conclusions. First he thought of Lord Voldemort, the evil Dark Lord who had terrorized him since infancy. That course of action was quite simple, in his mind; he would simply make the Dark Lord do something foolish, such as dancing, or cuddling a puppy. Harry allowed a small chortle to break through at the thought of the Dark Lord cooing at a fluffy puppy, scratching it behind the ears.
Next he thought of the dementors. They were certainly horrific enough. Their cold, fearful presence practically screamed death and destruction, and they did affect him worse than the others. He wondered how he could make them less scary, and decided on making them trip over their huge cloaks and fall on their face. That should work.
He wasn't quite sure how he would deal with the fear of himself being locked in the small, dark space of his cupboard at the Dursley's, but thought he would figure something out. Perhaps he could conjure glow sticks? Yes, that would be appropriately light-hearted.
Bolstered by his planning, Harry stepped forward and joined the queue of students waiting for their turn at the boggart. He laughed along with Padma Patil as she made her mummy trip over its own bandages and Seamus Finnigan as his banshee clutched her throat and rasped. He was so busy laughing that he barely had time to prepare himself for Ron's spider-boggart, or what was left of it, as it came to a stop at his feet. He vaguely heard Professor Lupin calling out to him to move out of the way, to wait for him, but blocked it out as he focused on the twisting shape at his feet.
From the deep recesses of a distant memory came the fearful yet determined voice of someone whose voice Harry had not heard in many years: "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" There came a horrible flash of green light, bringing with it the sweeping sensation of something blowing just past you. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them, looking at the floor and finding the still body of what must have been his father.
Another voice began speaking, pleading, and Harry found himself looking at a lovely, yet fear-stricken woman with auburn hair and startlingly green eyes, standing in front of a wooden cot that he could not see into. At a shattering crash that was out of his range of sight came, and the woman began crying, "Not Harry! Please…have mercy…Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything…" A harsh voice barked an unmerciful, "Avada Kedavra!" and the young woman crumpled in a flash of green light and a whisper of rushing death.
Harry stared at the pale form of the late Lily Evans Potter, and knew that this was too real to be a dream…too real to be imagination…and suddenly the classroom came rushing back. Harry had unknowingly dropped his wand as he stood frozen before his parents' crumpled forms, and he took in a harsh breath, unsuccessfully trying to avert his eyes. He took a few steps backwards, snatching up his wand, and flicked his eyes about the silent classroom, seeing the stricken faces of his classmates, the teary eyes of many of the girls, the quiet sobbing of Professor Lupin, and quietly said, breaking the silence, "There is nothing funny about this."