Okay so this one's pretty short too. I'm not sure they'll ever get back up to the length of the first chapters. But I like this one, so I really hope you enjoy it.
PS. I'm not going to be able to post until Sunday, but don't forget to tell me what you think in a review!
PPS. And only one review for my last update? Huh. Oh well I guess. I still love you guys. (Maybereviewmorethistimeprettyplease?)
~Dani
Year 5
"I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you"
"Riddikulus!" I screamed, but it sounded weak, even to my own ears.
I was practicing with a boggart in a spare room of the castle. Students weren't usually allowed access, but as for a lot of things, I was an exception.
"You know if you could really fight the dark arts, that would have worked," my mother's voice said, as the boggart took her form, "Honestly, do you know the kind of magic we were doing at your age?"
It morphed into Uncle Harry, "I had taken on dark magic countless times before I was fifteen. I saw Voldemort be reborn. But look at you. You'd never survive that. You can't even defeat a simple boggart."
'It's not real,' I told myself, and I knew it wasn't. But that didn't make it untrue. My whole family knew it. Heck, the whole school knew it. I remembered Ashlee Goyle and her cronies telling me I'd never live up to my parents. And I couldn't even defend myself, because how can you, when you know yourself that it's the truth.
I looked up, and now it was my father standing over me, holding a photograph in his hands. "Look," he said. The picture showed my cousins, Lily and James, along with my brother, Hugo, spinning their wands and crying out incantations. Beams of light spun through the air, hitting marked targets, which were mounted on the walls. When they finished, they were met with a round of applause from their peers and teachers alike.
"Have you ever gotten that?" Dad hissed, "Have you ever been praised like that for your Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
I flinched back, "No," I said, "But-"
"Look at your Uncle Harry and I. Aurors. Don't you want to live up to us? Don't you even try?"
"Riddikulus!" I screamed, but the boggart seemed unbothered. I was so preoccupied I almost didn't notice the door to my classroom opening.
"Rose?"
I spun to face the doorway, and there, looking confused and worried, stood Scorpius.
"I'm fine," I called to him, "You can go." The words came out harsher than I intended, but I didn't want him to see me like this, frightened and desperate.
The boggart shifted back into my mother, turning to face Scorpius. "And him, Scorpius Malfoy? This is the one you like to spend time with, Rose? He's a Malfoy. And you know what Malfoys are? They're Dark Wizards. They always have been. What makes you think he's any different from his father? Or his grandfather? Our families despised each other in school. What should make you two different? You're setting yourself up for failure by just associating with him. You'll never amount to anything this way. I might as well just-"
My mother's voice cut off, and the boggart started to shift again, probably sensing Scorpius, who was now nearer to it than I was. It was still forming, with a flash of red and black, before he shouted "Riddikulus!" as if he already knew what was coming.
The creature retreated, back into the closet, and Scorpius shut the latch.
Feeling defeated, I sat down against the wall, face in my hands. I felt him sit down beside me, but I couldn't make myself look up. I was too embarrassed. How could I ever do anything great if I couldn't defeat one simple boggart. One that took the shape of my parents, no less.
I waited for him to make fun of me. At least an off-handed snarky comment. But nothing. And I was still too shaken to wonder why.
"You okay?" he asked, after a few minutes of silence, and I finally looked up to face him. There was no humor in his eyes, no sign that he found amusement in my failures the way he'd always used to. This was a different side to him, one that I'd only seen on a few occasions, when it was just me and him and he finally let his guard down. I couldn't say that I didn't like him this way.
I managed a smile, "Of course," I said, "I'm just," Pause. "Tired."
It rang false even to my own ears. Scorpius saw right through me.
"We aren't our parents, Rose," he said quietly, "None of us are. We're us. I'm not my father, and you aren't yours. And you don't need to be like your uncle. Because you aren't him. You're you."
I wasn't completely comforted. "But you are a Malfoy," I said, "And I am a Weasley. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"Do you want it to?" he asked softly, and I shook my head.
"No."
He smiled, "Then it doesn't."
