A\N: Whoops. Something went wrong in the upload and the entire formatting basically exploded and I didn't notice.

All fixed now.

This has to be one of my favourites, next to Vriska's.

It began with one of the trolls, Gamzee Makara you think his name was. Tall, lanky, constantly wearing this really weird face paint that made him resemble a clown. The Professor's had tried numerous times to try and get him to stop by taking away House points, but he didn't seem to care either way and carried on as if nothing was wrong. Only McGonagall continued to take points off, and it was five points for whenever she laid eyes upon him. She didn't press it any further, but you suspected the only reason she continued was due to her loyalty to the rules. Makara definitely didn't seem to care at all, even though the other Slytherin's did.

He also had a weird tendency to refer to everyone and everything as 'motherfucker'. At first, you felt insulted, but it was only later that you learned that he called everyone motherfucker and it in fact seemed to be a term of endearment? It wasn't an insult though, that was clear. Other then these two odd quirks, and the fact that he was a troll, Makara didn't stand out very much. He was quiet, friendly, and relaxed. Although that made him stand out as a Slytherin, he just seemed to... blend in. Like, consciously, you knew he was there, and he tended to hang out with Vantas and the other trolls, despite the fact that Vantas was a Gryffindor and the House of Lions did not get along with the House of Snake, but Vantas wasn't one to care about things like that - he seemed to hate everyone equally. But the Slytherins, you noticed, were not fond of Makara.

It was probably the way he lost so many points - he couldn't answer questions, his essay's were terrible, and his spellwork was worse. Whilst none of this bothered Makara, it was a severe annoyance for the Slytherin's (and a source of great amusement for the Gryffindor's). So that was probably why they had rigged this little prank. It was executed mostly by the upper years, and basically consisted of a Boggart one of them had found in a trunk, which they had transported to Gamzee's favourite spot - a small area by the lake. When he came by as usual on a Monday afternoon to lounge by and watch the waters, it was to a trio of green-robed young men, glaring down at him. A few others, such as yourself, gathered around to watch. You were close enough to hear them speak, and one of them mentioned something about 'revenge' and 'being unworthy'.

Your name is Harry Potter and you will never forget what you witnessed next.

The trio unlocked the trunk from a relatively safe distance, assured that they were further from the boggart than Makara was. The trunk swung open, and a hand thrust itself out, gripping the edge. Pale grey, with golden claws. A troll's hand. Something settles on your mind like a haze, a crackling cloud. A pair of long, spiralled horns poke out, followed by a mess of black hair. You realise with a start that the Boggart-troll that is clambering out of the trunk is Makara. It is... and it isn't. Boggart-Makara stands straighter, more rigid, tense. Free of his trunk, the Boggart grins at his doppelganger but it's not the usual lazy grin full of friendliness and welcoming apathy. It was cold, dark, purposeful and sinister. Everything about the Boggart-Makara screamed sinister, though, from the dark red-orange sclera of his eyes, to the way he seemed like a coiled spring, ready to strike at any moment. Then it began to speak.

"Hey there MOTHERFUCKER." His voice was quiet at first, calm, serene almost, before it abruptly switched to this piercing shout that made everyone flinch - in short, nothing like the warbling accent of the original. "WHAT THE FUCK IS ON? Ain't lookin' too happy to see your own motherfucking FINE SELF OF YOURS." You found yourself leaning closer, trying to hear them better, with more clarity. Gamzee was mysterious and airy, obscured by his own vague wording and phrasing. Nobody knew anything about Gamzee except that he was friendly to everyone but enjoyed spending time primarily with Vantas, and he in turn was one of the few people the nubby-horned troll did not treat with pure unadulterated disdain - or any disdain at all actually. Which was a miracle in so far as itself, for Karkat treated everyone with disdain, even his 'friends'.

"I AIN'T YOU, motherfucker." The Original retorted, shrinking back into himself, shoulders hunched more than normal, eyes narrowed to slits; his voice had taken on the same abrupt shifting mannerism of his clone. Had he fur, you have no doubt it would be raised, so hostile was his attitude. "You have eyes, don't ya? EARS TOO. I am you, motherfucker, AND YOU ARE ME." Original-Makara bared his teeth at that, and the Boggart-clone replied in kind. You, Hermione and Ron scooted a little closer, watching everyone else did the same, curious to see what would happen next.

You realised that Boggart-Makara wasn't identical in appearance - three thin lines, welling with grape-coloured blood streaked across his face as if he had been clawed by a vicious beast. Scars you remember faintly seeing on the original. His face paint was smudged and rough, almost worn. You weren't entirely sure what it meant that Makara's greatest fear was apparently a scarier version of himself.

"I ain't YOU! Maybe in the motherfuckin' past BUT NOT NOW... not ever. Not ever again." He growled low at this, and you could see the way his shoulders tensed as if to strike. "Again? MOTHERFUCKER there ain't no again. There wasn't any end. YOU DIDN'T ALL UP AND STOP BEING ME, and I ain't never stopped being you." Boggart-Makara sneered at that, shoulders rolling with the movement. "Or did ya forget? I AM YOUR DESTINY! I am your future and ALWAYS MOTHERFUCKING WILL BE. I am what you were MOTHERFUCKIN' HATCHED TO BE and that ain't ever fuckin' changing."

Gamzee raised his wand now, shaking and trembling. "You're lying." He hissed, low and dangerous. "You always motherfucking were. FILLING MY THINKPAN WITH YOUR ROT, your disease. You ain't my motherfuckin' destiny and YOU AIN'T EVER GONNA BE! RIDDIKULUS!" The force of the spell is incredible, the raw magic washing over everyone.

The Boggart is flung back into the trunk, and the trunk itself is flung back by the impact of the Boggart. Boggart and trunk both go tumbling down into the lake, and nobody makes a move. Nobody can find the composure to. Gamzee turns to the trio of older Slytherin's, looking all the part of a murderous beast about to go on a rampage.

A hand pulls on his shoulder, down and turning him away, and a part of you wonders who is crazy enough to lay a hand on him, when he practically radiated murder, but that feeling is only impounded when the hand slaps him offhandedly, casually. The hand itself belongs to Karkat Vantas, and shortly after delivering the blow, he pulls the taller troll into a tight hug, crushing the other male's face into his shoulder, whispering something you couldn't hear, but sounded suspiciously like shooshing noises. The purpleblooded troll for his part seemed startled at first, but relaxes almost instantly, sinking to his knees and reciprocating the hug, letting the smaller troll rub soothing circles into his back. For a moment, you think all is over, but he glares at the trio of Slytherin's and they flinch. Glare isn't the right word - it's more like a concentrated ragebeam full of pure loathing. It makes Snape's repertoire of expressions seem loving and tender. Even the ones directed at you - especially the ones directed at you! Compared to the expression on Vantas's face, Snape's sneers were the kind, fatherly smile of a doting parent.

Before Vantas can do anything, you hear the startled screech of McGonagall, shattering the quiet shocked atmosphere with a cry of "WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME HAPPENED HERE?"

She isn't alone. Makara's outburst of magic has drawn most of the Professors, all of which are surveying the area speculatively. Snape's eyes linger on you a second longer than you personally believe they should, and he sneers at you. You have no doubt he is concocting a version of events where you are at fault for everything wrong in the world. Hermione, naturally, is the first to speak. The assembled Professor's do not look the tiniest bit happy about the fact that a trio of students attempted to bully another one, from their own house no less (Snape, you are surprised, looked especially furious at this), with their worst fears.

When McGonagall begins to tear them a new one, Snape does not interfere, only giving them a cold look that promised it wouldn't be over with just her. Vantas did not cease his ragebeam stare for a second.

You would not be surprised if they didn't survive the night, let alone the next hour.