Disclaimer: Hogwarts etc. belongs to JKR.
Fear.
It is a ruling aspect in so many people's lives.
It creates panic. Paranoia. Worry. Nerves. Desperation. Courage.
Heroes and villains rise and fall by the powers of fear.
Succumbing to fear gives us humanity and weakness, overcoming it lends power and strength. Creating fear offers a sense of control, a state of order.
Law systems forever and beyond rely on such states, as do the terror networks which would seek to destroy them.
What makes them so dangerous, Voldemort and his Death Eaters? It has been wondered before and the answer is clear. It's not because they're invincible, or even that they're right. It's not their determination or their power. It is not because they have nothing left to lose, but because you do. It has everything to do with the very humanity of their victims. It relies on our weaknesses as opposed to their strengths. They know how to create a situation where they do not actually need to do anything. It is simply not necessary, because the structure is already there, already underlying in every person that attempts to stop them. Like a personal time bomb, just waiting to be triggered. Insecurities. Worries. Fears. That's what gives them their control.
And now and then you'll see it work against them.
Niggling and nipping and bringing them down. Backfiring so to speak.
When Draco Malfoy looked into the eyes of a boggart he say his own. He say his own grey eyes wide open and dead.
It is an organisation founded on the same blood and pride and weaknesses that made Salazar Slytherin who he was. The Death Eaters are pure, proud, rich and power hungry, but their skill lies in manipulation and blackmail rather than in courage. When exposed to their very favourite weapon they do not fair too well.
A person's greatest fear can tell you a lot about them.
Not necessarily the best way to beat them, per sae, but definitely a good way to break them down.
Hermione Granger fears failure. She fears the disappointment in the eyes of someone she respects. She fears breaking someone's trust.
Boggarts have long been used to identify the best way to cope with an enemy, but it is not as simple as things would seem. Boggarts change with situations and it is often needed to interpret the signs rather than taking them at face value. Fear is personal. Were you to have McGonagall tell Hermione Granger she had failed her exams now it would be unlikely to evoke the same terror it once did.
People change. Situations change. Boggarts change. But fear remains the same.
Now she sees Harry and Ron alone, bleeding. Now she sees them turn to her and watch with pain and confusion in their eyes. She hadn't been able to save them. That's what she fears most. That she had failed them.
They keep telling them they're not afraid. It's written in the papers, announced by the Minister, in the aurors' motto, the Order's mission statement. "We are not afraid."
She thinks it's stupid sometimes, as she sits in her dark muggle bedroom in her dark muggle house. She'll sit there and wait for the inevitable letter, the one that will take her away from here and hopefully reduce the risk she places on her family. She waits for a way out, because for all her childhood years, when witches were not more than fairytale creatures and death only existed in the elderly, she doesn't feel she belongs here, she's out of place, a danger.
That thought scares her slightly. The idea of being such a risk to her family. The thought that if they died tomorrow it would most likely be her fault. It scares her and makes her slightly sick, and as she reads the Prophet, skimming through official press statements and hearing the same words pounding in her head, ("We are not afraid") she sits back and wonders at the immaturity of it all.
Because they are. Each and every one of them are terrified. So scared they set up curfews, so scared they close down shops, so scared they leave Hogwarts lying empty.
It's not a matter of not being afraid. She thinks it foolish to even pretend. Whether they claim it or not it doesn't stop anything, because they know, and they'd know even if every wizard in the country proclaimed their immunity to it.
Time would be so much better spent in combating them directly, going straight to the source rather than pleading with the public that there's nothing to be afraid of, even as the death toll rises. Intelligence and espionage is what they need, not shed loads of confused wizards, unsure of how much they're reading is true.
Molly Weasley fears loss.
At three years old that boggart showed her favourite teddy bear shredded and broken at the bottom of a dustbin.
Now she sees her family lying dead.
As your experiences widen, your perception of fear changes to fit the situation, the boggart adapts… Almost like expanding your vocabulary, new experiences (sights and sounds of death and corpses) lend the boggart ammunition, new colour and textures to paint your perfect fear.
Neville Longbottom fears inadequacy. He doesn't fear Death Eaters or potions accidents. He doesn't fear fierce reprimands or detentions, but what Professor Snape brings out in him. He fears that underlying knowledge that he is not as good as his peers, that he can't match up to the others.
The reason boggart's fail to work in the face of more than one consciousness is that balance, how personal each picture is to you. But while it means something as a whole, when distorted the meaning is lost and it can no longer affect you.
Remus Lupin fears himself. The monster within him that once tried to claim every last scrap of humanity he possesses. He fears becoming like Fenrir Greyback and he fears the moon for making it possible. He's so scared of what he has the potential to become.
Last night Draco Malfoy killed a man.
He felt the magic leave him in a burst of flame and anger. He felt the magic return, tearing his soul in two. He heard a scream cut short and he felt his head explode with blood falling like shards of mirror. He felt the death of an other and now he fears for the death of himself.
Blood poured from his nose as the shock of magic tightened its hold on his spasming muscles. "Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe." It was only a muggle and yet his soul ripped all the same. He almost dropped his wand as confusion plagued his senses.
"We'll never be whole people again."
When had she said that? He shivers and hears her voice, echoing through his mist-warped mind. Granger. Mudblood. Human? He's seen the unicorns watch him in terror. Innocence lost. He's knelt and wept, sobbing and shaking because he doesn't want it to be different. He doesn't want to change. Broken.
"I would like to blame you, Malfoy. I want more than anything to find someone to blame. But it isn't your fault is it? You're just a scared little boy praying the bad stuff won't happen to you. But it's too late isn't it? It's always too late."
She knew. She always did. He was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing but a waste of time. He hates it that she's right, hates it that he's wasted it all. The blood is pouring, his shoulders shaking and before him the muggle lies quiet and at peace. And if only for a moment he envies that.
As a young child he had once met a boggart in the attic. He wasn't meant to be there. His father had demanded he stayed away from this room, the highest in the Manor. His father said it wasn't safe and he'd only do himself injury. His father had told him no, but his father was out.
His father had been right.
It had been dark and smelled of dust. The young boy roamed between the white sheets masking furniture and other unidentified objects. When a wardrobe rattled he had turned to look.
Harry Potter fears fear. He fears the past. His past. He fears the repetition of his parents' fate. He fears the failure of so many sacrifices.
He sees dementors. Not because of their scaly hands and empty eyes. Not for their ability to draw the soul away from the body. Not even their icy presence and shadowy cloaks. No. He fears them for the associations that lie within himself with their presence. He fears the memories they recall, the suffering they remind him of. The fear.
At the age of six years old Draco Malfoy had seen the gates to his family's cemetery, swinging open on an invisible breeze.
At the age of sixteen he saw a thestral, like the one in the book, ragged and monstrous,
Seventeen years old and his own body lies cold and stiff, still glowing green with the light of death. He sees himself and he is so scared.
Draco Malfoy fears death. The finality, the unknown, the emptiness of his own eyes. He fears the end.
AN: My God. This sounds far too much like an essay. Ergh. Monotone and matter-of-fact. I'm sorry, people. It wasn't intentional.
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