Chapter 5: The Boggart in the Wardrobe
Clara stared around the Great Hall in consternation, the chatter of the various houses almost deafening as it echoed off the stone walls. It was mind-numbingly early in the morning and Clara rubbed her eyes limply. She had woken up that morning, eyes crusty from crying in her sleep and a bone-deep ache that came from sadness through the night.
Feeling rather self-conscious, she sidestepped around a pair of rushing first years who were in near tears at being late. Brows furrowing, Clara pulled out her pocket watch. No. Definitely not late. They must have wound their watches wrong. Clara turned to tell them so but was met only by the sight of an empty corridor.
"You look like you're lost," came a deep voice from beside her, making her jump in surprise and whirl around to find George grinning down at her. Shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning down and tipping his head to the side, he gave her a long once over with those mischievous amber eyes of his.
"Mon Dieu. Tu m'as fait peur," she whispered, clutching her heart and giving him a shy smile. "I - I - Well, a couple of my roommates led me here but… I can't find the people that were with me yesterday…"
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Came a dramatic voice and she turned to see Fred grinning down at her. "I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be the loyal ones in this bloody school."
"Leave it to Gryffindor to pick up the slack," a witch said as she walked forward to stand beside the ginger-haired wizard. She was tall and lean, but she didn't seem to hold herself like she was afraid of that height but rather like she enjoyed it. Her eyes were dark pools that Clara couldn't help but fall into for a moment too long, the cunning laughter there enough to make anyone stumble. Her complexion was the golden brown of a cliff's edge, steep and unyielding within the chaotic walls of Hogwarts, the frantic energy of a normal school morning such a contrast to the quiet serenity and confidence that seemed to seep from her. In truth, Clara felt rather small beside her. The other witch flashed an array of pearly whites, offering Clara a small wave. "Angelina Johnson."
"Quidditch extraordinaire," Fred threw in helpfully, getting a playful push from the dark-skinned witch.
Clara glanced to George who had moved to stand beside her. The two seemed rather close. George gave a mock gag, rolling his eyes. Stooping down, he whispered softly, "They've been in love for years. Fred has pictures of her under his pillow."
"Well, well, well," a suave voice called, heralding Lee's approach as he slid in next to Angelina with a swathy smile and raised eyebrows. "If it isn't my love, my moon - The woman of my dreams -"
Angelina glanced around. "Where did Katie go?"
Both twins howled in laughter and Clara couldn't help give a small giggle at Lee's dumbstruck expression.
"It hurts when you do that, Angelina. It really does." The tall witch gave him a smirk before heading off to the Gryffindor table. Looking to Fred with a shrug, Lee smiled. "Katie's smokin' too though."
"You're an absolute pig, Lee," George drawled, his eyes flickering with affection before he turned back to Clara. "You can sit at the Gryffindor table, Clara."
"It's only right, really," Fred said lazily. "Rubbish that you were sorted into Hufflepuff."
"I like Hufflepuff…" Clara whispered, glancing nervously to the table in question. The feeling of not seeing or knowing where Keela, the Vansteens or even Callum had surprised her this morning. It was the kind of throat-tightening panic that came from being late to class or finding out that you were absolutely screwed on an exam. But not sitting at her own table only a day after she had been sorted into it…
"Hufflepuff's are a delight, Clara." George's eyes warmed as he patted her head. "Some more than others."
Something tight coiled around her heart, sending fire to lick up her face. Clara blinked, taken aback.
But just like that, George gave her a wink and turned away, throwing her a glance over his shoulder. "Live on the dangerous end of the road, Clara."
"It's rather fun here," Fred threw in, walking after his brother, both followed by Lee who sent her a smile.
For a moment, Clara shuffled where she was, glancing between the two tables. In all honesty, the prospect of sitting awkwardly through a breakfast where no one spoke to her - or worse, if they did and she had to make clumsy conversation - wasn't appealing in the least. She bit her lip. Perhaps she was making things harder than they needed to be.
Holding her bag tightly to her side, she rushed over to where the twins and Lee had sat, smiling shyly as she sat beside the dark-haired wizard.
"We knew you had it in you!" the twins cheered together, pouring her a cup of coffee which she accepted gratefully.
"It's more fun over here anyway," Lee confided to her.
"Not particularly because of the house," Fred shrugged.
"Only because of the company," George finished just as another ginger wizard with freckles plopped down opposite them.
Clara stared hard at him for a moment. She was sure she knew him - The glint of a badge caught her attention and she clapped, startling everyone around her and pointed to him in glee. "Bighead boy!"
Everything went silent. Silverware stopped clinking. Groups stopped talking. Clara slowly lowered her hand as the seconds ticked on, worry furrowing her brow. Had she been -
The twins roared, howling as they clutched their stomachs and their laughter slowly caught across the table. Clara stared, wide-eyed across the table at Percy, guilt and confusion mixing together as his cheeks reddened.
"Give her a greeting, Bighead Boy!" Fred guffawed, tears running down his face.
Percy slammed back from the table, his teeth gritting and his face scorching red as he glared down at his brothers with loathing. "Do your jokes have no end?"
With that he stormed away, leaving the table to slowly quiet down. Fred wiped the tears away, sniffing. "End to jokes? What kind of dull prattle is that?"
"I didn't mean to embarrass him…" Clara whispered, staring after the ginger-haired wizard in concern. She glanced back to the twins, biting her nails anxiously. "His badge said Bighead Boy on the train-"
"Oh we know, love," George assured her, a wicked glint in his eyes. "We're the ones who made it say that."
"A shame he found out before he reached the school," Fred murmured.
"That's mean," Clara gasped.
"If you knew our brother, you wouldn't think so," Fred said, taking a bite of toast.
"He is a bit of a prat sometimes," Lee remarked, digging into his breakfast.
"Most of the time," the twins corrected together.
Clara wasn't too sure. She glanced back at the hall entrance. He had looked rather hurt. Sighing, she glanced back to see a dark-haired boy with round glasses drop into a seat beside George, his expression rather downtrodden. He was followed by another red-headed wizard and a rather bushy-haired witch.
"New third-year course schedules," George said around a mouthful of toast, grabbing up a piece of paper and handing it to the three. He paused. " What's up with you, Harry?"
Clara glanced curiously at the three, trying to see around Lee.
"Malfoy," said the ginger-haired wizard. Clara's eyes narrowed he looked uneasily familiar. Strangely similar to Fred and George.
All eyes turned to the table farthest away from the Gryffindors just in time to see a boy with silver and cold grey eyes pretending to faint with terror to the great delight of all at the table.
"I don't understand," Clara said in confusion, turning back to stare at the others for help. The three newest arrivals looked as if they had just noticed her presence and she finally caught full sight of them all. "Ah! Je te connais! 'Arry Potter!"
She looked to George as if by instinct for approval earning an amused smile.
"We forgot introductions," George said, smiling softly. "Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and our littlest brother, Ron Weasley."
"The cutest of the Weasley brood," Fred said, pinching his brother's cheeks as Ron tried to swat him away.
Clara nodded, grinning broadly at all three of them as George gestured to her. "And this is Clara Deschamp. Newest Gryffindor."
"Hufflepuff," she corrected, tugging at her gold and black scarf with a wide grin, her syllables rolling together. "I've heard so much about you. My father is always talking-"
She stopped as a large, warm hand rested on her arm, glancing up at George.
"You're speaking too quickly," he said, smiling gently with a soft look in his amber eyes.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she whispered, blushing fiercely as she bit nervously at a piece of toast. She gave the three an apologetic smile. "It gets away from me."
The three gave her small smiles in return.
"Why iz zis white 'aired boy giving yoo trouble?" she said, blushing as her tongue struggled to grasp onto the proper pronunciation. Absently, she noticed that George had taken away his hand.
"The dementors were on the train and Harry…" Hermione stopped, glancing at the boy in question as her lips tightened.
"I fainted," Harry said bluntly. There was such self-depreciation in his voice that Clara winced, trying to find something to say to soothe his embarrassment.
"I almost fainted," Clara said, taking a sip of coffee, her shoulders going up slightly. "I would have if it weren't for-"
Clara stopped, halting that train of thought abruptly as she choked on her coffee. She was about to say that if George hadn't been there, she would have fainted. The only thing that she meant - well, it was just nice to know that someone was there in the darkness. That she was being held and that she was fine and that someone else was going through the same fear and despair that she was.
"That little git," George said calmly, drawing the attention away from the flustered french witch with a small, knowing smile. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"
Clara suddenly remembered the little boy with pointed features and that sour face. "Nearly wet himself."
"I wasn't too happy myself," George said, suddenly looking uneasy. "They're horrible things, those dementors…"
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.
Clara stared down at the swirling, creamy surface of her coffee. "They should have never been let out of Azkaban," she whispered, drawing the attention of the people around her. She remembered her readings on the fortress, shivering. "Evil should stay in it's nest."
"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" Harry said in a low voice and Clara frowned.
"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly." "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking… They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."
"In France we don't allow those vile creatures," Clara said with disgust, hands clenching. "Father spoke to me of their ways - told me about how they are bred. In darkness, with nothing but pain and sadness to feed from. When they were first found, it was in the rubble of the North Sea where Ekrizdis lured, tortured and killed muggle sailors. It was infested with them."
Her lips tightened as she thought of all the suffering that must have occurred within those walls. It revolted her, made her stomach turn that she could have ever been close to creatures like that. A warm hand rubbed along her back, catching her by surprise at it's comfort.
"We'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," Fred said, quickly changing the subject as he cracked his knuckles menacingly. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"
"Oh," Clara brightened, sitting up straighter as George's hand stilled on her back. "You have Quidditch?"
"You play?" George asked, interest sparking across his face and Clara laughed.
"I'm afraid not. I'm rather clumsy on a broomstick," she admitted. "But I am a great supporter."
"You'll have to come cheer us on," George said with a wink and she snorted.
"Oui. I will come to support my house," she said with a smile.
"CLARA!" The white-haired girl jerked, spinning to see Keela making her way toward her with an exasperated look on her face. "We were looking for you all over the place! Have you been here all this time?"
"Oh," Clara blinked up at the fiery Irish woman. "I'm sorry. I didn't know… My roommates brought me here…"
Mismatched blue and green eyes turned to take in the whole table and she looked mildly impressed. "You certainly move up in the world fast."
"I didn't see you at the table and-" Clara searched for words as she gathered up her stuff and stood, feeling guilty all over again.
"We tempted her over to the dark side," George said with a wicked smile.
"Sure did," Fred said, munching on a piece of bacon. "Blame us."
"Oh, I'm sure you did, handsome," Keela said with a wink that sent Fred grinning.
"Well, they usually just call me Lee," the mauve boy said with a slick smile as Keela rolled her eyes.
"Clara!" came a breathless exclamation as Molly ran up to them, slight roses dusting her deep complexion, as her brother and Callum trailed behind. "We were looking all over for you! We thought that - Oh. Oh my. Well - Hee hee. Wow."
The sentence ended in her cheeks flaming even brighter as she caught sight of George and Fred and burst into hysterical giggles, twirling a piece of hair around her finger and batting her eyes to the twins' confusion.
"Oh brother," Archie muttered, looking vaguely disgusted.
"Yikes," Keela echoed softly enough that only Clara could hear her before turning to confide in Clara. "Let's get her out of here before she makes an utter fool of herself and ends up sobbing in the lake again." She turned back to the table with a fake grin, her voice rising. "Well, it has been an utter delight-"
"If you mean being able to finally have my morning serenaded by your lovely voice-" Lee started out.
Keela quickly cut him off, not even seeming to notice that he had spoken. "But we really must be off."
"Hufflepuff business," Archie said formally as he grabbed ahold of his sister to try and wheel her away as she spluttered out incoherent words mixed with desperate spurts of laughter.
"Thank you so much for letting me sit with you," Clara said hurriedly as the others ushered a near-hysterical Molly away.
"You looked too much like a lost kitten for us to leave you there," George admitted with a wink sending Clara spluttering and flustered.
Clara set her stack of books heavily on the worn wooden desk, sighing heavily as she looked around with a wary eye. All day she had been running about in this godforsaken school - not to even begin with the fact that every time she stepped outside it was an onslaught of rain and mud. She was half expecting the old blocks that were keeping this building standing to slide away and for there to be nothing more than storms and rubble.
Keela and the Vansteens had been sending her enchanted letters all day and they had been able to have lunch at her table but they had separated early in the day due to the fact that Clara had actually been bumped up to sixth year classes at the behest of Albus Dumbledore. Apparently, Beauxbaton curriculum was a year ahead of Hogwarts - a fact that Clara was a bit bitter about.
However, there did seem to be a few classes that Hogwarts deemed itself to be high above…
Clara stared begrudgingly stared down at the scrap of parchment. Transfiguration (Tuesday and Wednesday classes) along with Herbology and… Defense Against the Dark Arts which happened to be Monday and Friday. The first two, Clara found to be a bit ludicrous. Beauxbaton had a full herbal garden slickly named the Queen's Court and Transfiguration was one of the main charms of the French school. Beauty was definitely in the eye of the beholder and whenever possible Beauxbaton's inhabitants put whatever magic they could to the pursuit. Transfiguration was a main route.
Defense Against the Dark Arts however…
Clara felt like something very hot and uncomfortably moist was running along her spine as she glanced up to find a very real, very large dragon skeleton hanging suspended from the ceiling with a cauldron just a bit away.
Clara Deschamp felt absolutely and completely out of her element.
"Well, look who it is!" came an amused voice from behind her. Keela strolled up with a smirk. "Here to join the savages, I see."
"Don't be mean, Keela." Archie was short behind, his curls tousled by the wind. "She's been moaning about you all day, Clara. Think she's fallen for you."
"Oh, shut it," the Irish Woman snapped, slapping his shoulder with a slight blush. "I'm a cold hearted witch. I care for no one and feel nothing."
"I've missed you too," Clara said, slightly distracted by a sudden movement from the staircase that led down into the classroom at the very front. The whole area was rather archaic.
"Of course you did, love," Keela said with a smirk. "I'm a bloody riot."
"Speaking of riots," Archie mumbled, his eyes turning to a spot over Clara's shoulder.
"Well, well, well," a deep, sarcastic voice rang out, smoothly coming to a stop beside Clara. "If it isn't Archibald Winston Vansteen."
The smile that George was wearing honestly scared Clara a little bit. It was a tight one that made his amber eyes that usually burned so bright, seem cold and there seemed to be a stiffness to his shoulders that didn't seem to entirely fit him. It was like he had put on an ill-fitting suit.
Standing across from him, Archie's cheeks reddened, his eyes narrowing as he stared the redhead down, his gaze sharpening even more as Fred slid beside his brother.
"Fred. George," he said stiffly with an air of distant cordiality. "How's your day going?"
"Yikes," Clara heard Keela murmur as both of the twins smiled in unison.
George's eyes turned to Clara and a bit of warmth seeped back into them as he leaned down to her level. "Did Archibald here tell you that he's a chaser on the quidditch team?"
Clara's brows went up as she broke into a smile. "Archie!"
"It's really not-" Archie's cheeks were redder than ever as he stared rather sharply at the twins.
"Dodges every one of our bludgers," Fred quipped, his voice tight even though he was still smiling.
Clara blinked, suddenly becoming aware of the uncomfortable tension in the air that seemed to be radiating between the twins and Archie.
"Oh not this bollox again." Keela rolled her eyes heavenward. "Every bloody year-"
"We know you're enchanting your broom, you ogre loving twat," Fred suddenly said with such venom that Clara jumped.
"Because that's the only way that I could be missing your daisy soft throws?" Archie's words dripped with sarcasm as the twins gasped in disbelief.
"The only thing that's soft around here is you, Vansteen," George growled.
"It sounds like you're just scared that the Hufflepuffs are going to beat your behinds like your mother used to when you were babes," Archie snarled right back, his eyes lighting.
"What utter tripe," Fred rolled his eyes. "I can't even make up a proper response-"
"That's a new one. Usually we can't get you to shut your trap at all-"
"Better than not being able to open it to even confess-"
Archie's ears went red, his hands clenching. "I look forward to the day that we beat that smug little smirk-"
"Never," both of the twins said in unison sounding rather bored and the curly haired boy huffed before George continued on alone. "And for your information our mother never stopped beating us, Vansteen."
"We'll beat you to the dirt this year, Weasley," Archie retorted, nearly fuming with anger and putting so much emphasis on the name that both witches cringed.
"Which one?" they replied in unison.
A particularly wet cough broke any further interaction as a rather bedraggled wizard slouched down the stairs and to his desk, running an eye over the by now full classroom. He was a shabby wizard that looked rather scrawny and a bit like he had drank too much sherry and was still recovering.
"Please - I see a few of you have your books out - I would like you to put them all away. Out of sight," he said with a small smile and a wave of his wand that sent all the chairs flying back and turning his gaze to stare pointedly at the twins and their small group.
"Talk to you in a bit, Clara Love," George said softly, nudging her shoulder softly before following his brother across the room to where most of the Gryffindors sat.
Fumbling slightly to regain herself, she looked around and found that a boy with wavy blonde hair had sat beside her and was staring up at her with a rather expectant (awkward) smile. Clara threw a desperate glance to Keela who was already seated beside a still-fuming Archie who mouthed, sorry with a guilty glance.
"Go on," he said encouragingly even though she was already sitting down, shoving her books into her bag hurriedly. "Pop a squat."
Clara winced, giving him a tight smile before blinking in surprise and consternation as he scooted closer to her, his smile growing.
"You smell nice," he stated and Clara felt an odd sort of tingling rub up her spine as her chest tightened and she tried to move away without being noticed. "Don't say much, huh?"
"Um, thank you," she whispered, pointedly turning back to the front to catch Professor Lupin's final words.
"...Need your wands," was all that she got and she looked around in confused consternation as chairs squealed as they moved back and wizards and witches began to file out of the room.
"My name's Kenneth Towler, by the way," the wizard that she had been sitting by said rather eagerly as he shouldered in closer to her.
"Oh, um," she searched for something more to say before forcing a pained smile. "That's nice."
"There she is." Keela and Archie were waiting closer to the door as Clara shuffled in, finding the other students milling about a rather cluttered room that held a rather impressive wardrobe that wobbled and banged about sending the students into murmurs. Clara hurried over to the pair, dashing away from the rather uncomfortable presense of Kenneth Towler.
"That wizard is a bit…" Clara couldn't find the right word.
"Loopy," Archie said dully, staring across the room at the boy in question.
"Absolutely creepy AF," Keela supplied.
"Alright, everyone," Professor Lupin said, drawing the attention of the class. He was standing right beside the wardrobe. "In this wardrobe," he tapped in fondly and it gave a responding jangle, "there is a creature called the boggart. Dreadful creatures that like dark, enclosed spaces like the cracks behind doors, the slip of darkness beneath your bed. But the very first thing that we must know before we can begin to combat this is: What is it? What can it do to disarm and delay us?"
No one answered. Finally a Hufflepuff girl across the room raised her hand.
"Is it like a runespoor?" she asked, hopefully.
Professor Lupin seemed to consider, tipping his head this way and that before giving an apologetic smile. "No not at all, Miss Gengrin."
Across the room, George caught Clara's eyes and rolled his own.
"Boggarts take our fears - our deepest secrets and they use it. They make us see and hear and face our own monsters. And they feed off of it," he ended simply, pausing briefly before smiling again. "Now, who's first?"
Slowly, the students were shuffled into a disorganized line and Professor Lupin gave a few more instructions. Clara stared down at her wand, unsure. She had no idea what her deepest fear was. Maybe… Well, she didn't particularly like flobberworms. They were relatively harmless but she still got itchy and sick when she was around them. A sort of panic set in as she saw Keela go up, she was only two ahead of Clara. She needed to find out or she would be completely blindsided.
"Don't over think it, Clara love." The french witch glanced up at George's soft tone. "There's no right or wrong. You're safe in this room and if that boggart turns into anything nasty I'll be the first one up there."
"Miss Deschamp." Clara flinched, staring up at George for a moment more before she finally forced herself to turn and take an uneasy step forward.
All she had to do was turn her fear to a .
"Take a deep breath, Miss Deschamp," Professor Lupin called as the boggart began to shake, darkening and curling into itself. Clara's want pinched painfully into her palms and she clutched it to her chest. She didn't even want to blink. Her breath quivered out of her as it settled to the ground and began to take shape.
No one moved. No one breathed. Everything was silent except for the moaning sobs that erupted from -
Clara choked, her hands flying to her lips as her knees buckled.
The thing about fears is that the deepest ones aren't always at the surface of one's personality. And a dislike is not a fear. A person's deepest fear isn't something that needs to be said or chided on - it's just there, waiting in the darkest part of the mind.
"Oh my god," he heard someone whisper from behind her but her mind was too focused on the blinding terror - a terror so real and breathtaking that she couldn't help the scream that was bubbling up.
"You did this." It was a deep, guttural voice that shrieked along her ears. Definitely not her father's but her mind didn't register it as she gasped, flinching away.
Her mother's face was buried in the creased folds of Annabelle's robes, her silvery hair tangling over her body as she gave a bone shattering sob. Her sister - Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle, her mind whispered urgently - so painfully dead. She forced a hand to her eyes, pressing hard as she rocked. Annabelle's eyes, wide and stare. Accusing.
"IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!" Clara whimpered, hearing the pounding steps of her father advancing on her. He's right, her brain whispered to her before everything went silent.
Clara didn't realize that anything had changed - that the boggart, her fears - had gone back into it's dark hole. She was still trapped. Still there with her sister's accusing gaze.