Well Hiiiiiiiii! Okay so this Chapter may be a little more detailed and gory than the others so beware but I don't think it's that bad :S Just beware, it involves your worst fear….. I may have just given it away…. Oh well, you were going to read it anyway.

So enjoy and tell me what you think after you read.

Read on….. :)

Oh and for the entire of this chapter, the song in the background would be 'You Are Loved (don't give up) by Josh Groban'. It's beautiful and also quite heartbreaking :( It's also a beautiful contradiction with the nasty bit at the end.

Chapter 8

Fred had helped her stand and gave her a small smile before sweeping a stray piece of hair behind her ear, making shivers cascade down her spine. Then, he gathered all of his courage and leant over to whisper in her ear that he was glad that she was safe, making heat spread across her cheeks. Molly then quickly sent the children up to their rooms before those coming to the emergency Order meeting started to arrive; although Sam was pretty sure that seconds after their door closed upstairs she heard a loud crack followed by scuffling and hushed voices in the kitchen that sounded awfully like the Twins'; making her grin.

Sam trusted Severus enough to relate the events to them so she opted out of the meeting, much to the objection of the Order; she was already mentally exhausted and couldn't handle the intensity of being questioned.

Sirius however, was adamant that Samantha should be there.

"You have to attend the meeting Samantha!" Sirius told her firmly when the members of the Order were filing into the meeting.

"I don't have to do anything Sirius!" Sam bit back as she stood nose to nose with him. She spoke eerily quietly. "Did you just have someone try to kill you?"

"Samantha –" Sirius began exasperatedly.

"Sirius," Molly said from the doorway of the meeting room, "let her do what she wishes." She crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow at the man in front of her as if daring him to challenge her.

"Very well." Sirius said tightly before striding moodily into the room.

"Thank you Molly." Sam said distantly before walking in any direction that led her away from the Conference. She didn't see the look of concern that flitted over Molly's features.

This left Sam to wander as she pleased, which she greatly appreciated.

But since she was alone, there was nothing to stop her thoughts from running away with her as she ascended the word down, carpeted stairs.

Panic was her primary emotion.

Questions plagued her mind.

How did they know that I was there?

How did they get into the Ministry?

Why, in that moment, were the guards that usually obsessively marched through the Ministry, conveniently absent?

But as much as she didn't want to admit it; she already knew the answers.

Someone told them.

Someone let them in.

Someone sent them away.

So it all summed up to one massive question.

Who was that someone?

Faces flashed before her eyes; each a possibility; each didn't try to hide their distaste for Sam.

Umbridge? The Minister himself? Malfoy? Runcorn?

To be honest, it could be anybody who had caught sight of her making her way to the interrogation rooms.

Someone could have been following her even before she entered the Ministry.

The possibilities were endless.

Sam wandered from room to room, not really seeing where she was going, not listening to anything around her. All of the doors in the house were open, airing them and attempting to remove the stench that had built up within them over its years of not being occupied.

She felt like a zombie as she dragged her feet forwards.

A confrontation like that one hadn't happened in years; and Sam had acquired the delusion that maybe the Dark Lord had given up on his pursuit of her.

She laughed hollowly to herself at her own idiocy. For Voldemort may look foolish when he fails; but that just pokes the bear and adds fuel to his fire.

It makes him fight even harder to succeed.

She walked past a door and frowned. She took a step backwards and cocked her head to the side. It was oak like all of the others, no extra detail, nothing special about it; but this one door out of all of the others was closed. Curiosity tugged at the back of her mind and so she gave in. She curled a hand around the cool, elegant door handle and pushed it down. The lock clicked and she pushed forwards, the door swung away from her with a groan of protest.

She put her left foot in front of the other slowly as she walked inside and shut the door quietly behind her, leaning heavily against it as she observed where she was.

She was standing in a small room on the second floor of the house. It was pitch black; so much so that Sam couldn't see her hand even if she put it directly in front of her face. The lights didn't work when she flicked the switch so she entered the dark room, trying to gather her thoughts. The fact that she couldn't see any of her surroundings helped her not to be distracted. She walked slowly into the middle of the seemingly empty area and sat down on the floor. She didn't care what reason the door was closed, she needed the darkness, and she needed the isolation.

She let her thoughts settle as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and breathed deeply; inhaling a cloud of dust and coughing frantically. She froze when she thought she heard movement behind her. She swallowed against a cough and listened intently. For a while nothing happened, but Sam still sat as still as a statue until, five minutes later; there it was again. A scuffling sound and shallow, pants of breath. Samantha subtly pulled her wand from where it was slipped into her boots.

She stood slowly and swivelled on the balls of her feet to face the direction of the noise.

What she saw in front of her froze the breath in her throat.

A man lay on the floor; he was surrounded by an eerie, glowing light, which shone onto Sam's face as she stared. His dark eyes were glassy and unfocused. His breathing was slowly becoming less and less regular and it was clear that he was slowly dying from the rivulets of blood that poured from the long gash stretching diagonally from his left shoulder to his right hip.

But that wasn't what made Sam freeze. The man on the floor had long black greasy hair that was stuck to his sweaty forehead. His long robes had been slashed to pieces viciously; showing bits of blood covered flesh.

It was Severus. But at the same time it wasn't.

A Boggart.

That was the reason the door was closed. A Boggart lived in this room. It was also a brutal one. Most Boggarts simply show a dead relative; if that was your fear; no cuts, and no bruises. Just dead; pale, lifeless, unmoving and glassy eyed. This, however, showed the brutality of the Boggart in front of her.

She was watching him die. He was dying; not just dead. Dying, before her eyes.

Her chest clenched painfully. She knew that it wasn't real, but it couldn't eliminate the horror within her.

She raised her wand slowly and shakily.

"Riddikulus." She said in a voice, thick with emotion.

But it only rolled fully over to face her, giving her a full view of the damage done, making her gag and turn her back on it; silently wishing it to go away, clenching her eyes shut.

Her mind was fatigued; it was shattered by fear; warped through relief; mixed up so much that she couldn't get a simple spell to work.

'Weakness makes us stronger.'

It's not really him. It's not really him.

She repeated the words in her head over and over until she truly believed them. Slowly she opened her eyes, spinning around to face the Boggart full on.

"Riddikulus!" She spoke more forcefully.

But not convincingly enough.

What she had hoped to happen didn't. Severus simply morphed into another person Samantha wished it wouldn't.

This person had brown, nearly grey hair, tied into a neat bun; odd hairs had been torn from its hold and were strewn across her sharp featured face.

Minerva McGonagall was staring blankly up at the girl she had raised for two years of the young girls' life. Her hands were clenching and unclenching the carpet as her body shook with spasms. Her mouth was wide as if she was trying to cry out, but all that came out were whimpers.

Samantha turned away once more, whispering words of encouragement and reassurance to herself. She steeled herself once more with a deep calming breath.

As she whirled she raised her wand, hoping to cast the spell before the Boggart could worsen itself.

Hastily, her eyes rested on the Boggart and she let out a choked noise, her wand fell to the ground with a clunk; her hand flew to her mouth as she stumbled backwards, crashing into a set of draws she hadn't noticed were there. She slid to the floor as glass objects rained down around her and shattered where her shaking and whimpering form had curled around herself on the floor.

Sam felt her sobs get choked off by her heavy breathing. But hot tears of panic and horror streamed down her face.

"No." She whispered hoarsely, putting her hand over her ears to try and block out the stilted breathing of the person lying metres away from her. "No. This isn't real! This isn't real!" She screeched into the darkness. Nothing she said to herself made any difference as the blood dripped from the corner of the mouth of the Boggart.

The Boggart. It's just a Boggart.

Suddenly, as if just watching him die wasn't enough, the body arched off the ground with a bloodcurdling scream of agony which would have woken the dead.

Sam began to sob loudly, not even bothering to fetch her wand. She wouldn't be able to do anything in this state.

The scream must have been heard from through the entire house because footsteps thundered down the stairs and threw the door open to see Sam curled up on the floor, sobbing, surrounded by glass.

The body in front of her was thrashing on the floor, screaming out and blood covered his face.

But, as mutilated as his body was, he wasn't beyond recognition.

A group of people were gathered in the doorway of that room. They looked on in horror as they saw who the Boggart had taken the form of.

There was a 50/50 chance of who the person was. But no one had to think twice as all eyes moved to stare at the person who spoke next.

"Is that me?" Fred whispered.

!

Yeah. So I'm sure you all predicted that but oh well :) I know it always makes me feel clever when I work something out before it's actually confirmed :) It's like that in those detective shows when you predict who the murderer is before it is revealed LOL….. But as for the Mentalist I have no freaking clue who Red John is….. I wish I did though :(

If you don't watch the Mentalist you SIMPLY MUST! It's really funny, not too gory, Simon Baker (Patrick Jane – the main character) is so cheeky and cute and AWWWW I'm getting carried away. No worries though.

Oh yeah and i am very aware that this bears a striking similarity to Mrs Weasley's confrontation with the Boggart in the books. That is where i got the idea. But the general jist is that the confrontation had already happened and that's why no one was going into that room. They were waiting for someone (like Lupin) to get rid of it, because it's a really horrible one :(

So yeah and i know you're all going to say that Sam is too strong and powerful to be defeated (so to speak) by a Boggart, but really would you be completely unfazed if the only people you'd ever been close to were presented to you, dying painfully and graphically. No. Exactly. So no negative comment's about that please, she is my character and she will react as i make her :D MWAHAHAHAHAHA :P

Hey ho!

So please review.

Lots of Love

From

Alicia

xxxx