A/N: Just three things to say. 1: I still don't own Harry Potter, only my ideas. And any OC's that arrive at some point in the next few chapters (*foreshadowing*). 2: This chapter is more of a filler, and it serves as context to a later chapter which is very important to the plot. 3: Italics are flashbacks or similar. Enjoy!
Chapter Rating: My invented T+ (Chapter 3).
Chapter 6
The Boggart
Third year came about sooner than Harry would have liked. He was noticing a very severe problem: every day, he aged by one day. Because of this, or so he said, the summer simply passed by. Not that Harry didn't like school or anything; it was just that in the two years prior something had gone horribly wrong. Harry, as a result, was understandably apprehensive. As he walked into the barrier and onto the platform, he looked around. Where was Ron? He saw a tuft of hazel-brunette hair sticking up among the crowd. Hermione! Ron was next to her, as Harry discovered after barging through to them. Over the journey, they talked, read, and played games. They chatted about the weather, about the news, and about anything else that popped into their heads. They were happy and content.
The first Defence Against The Dark Arts lesson of the year began with the class moving the tables to the edges of the room.
"Right class. Today, we will be learning about Boggarts, magical shape-shifters. Does anyone know what form they take?" Professor Lupin asked. Unsurprisingly, the only three volunteering information were Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Which one to choose. He chose Ron.
"A Boggart takes the form of whatever, whoever, or whenever your worst and deepest darkest fear is. It can be repelled using the spell 'Riddikkulus'." Ron stated. Lupin looked at him. He was good. Very good. However, he had missed one thing.
"Very good," started Lupin "but the one thing you have forgotten is the three different types of Boggart: insolidified, memorial, and solidified. An insolidified Boggart is a Boggart that may be a place, person, or a thing. A memorial Boggart is where it is a memory, and is played out to the victim like a projector showing a movie. The final type is the solidified Boggart. Only 23 people in the entire world are known to have this, so I doubt that any of you will have on. In fact, I expect that out of the class of 53, maybe 5 of you will have a memorial Boggart. Anyway, let's get into the practical, shall we?"
The class lined up, ready to face the Boggart. Neville was first, Ron was seventh, Hermione eighth, Draco ninth, and Harry tenth. All of a sudden, just as Neville was about to start, Draco burst into a fit of crying. Harry knew it was a desperate act, but Lupin bought it. Draco had got out of it.
Neville stepped forward. With a cry of 'Alohamora', the cupboard containing the boggart opened. A dark figure strode out. Snape. He began setting detentions and docking points. Nevertheless, Neville successfully defeated the Boggart.
On Ron's go, a scene confronted him. Hermione was dead, slain by Harry, who was crazed, splattered in blood. Ron was horrified. Then, a cloud of smoke set off in one direction and an illusion of Neville joined the scene. A flash came out of Harry's wand. No one heard the word; they just saw the rushing flash of green light. Boggart-Harry turned. Ron drew his wand. "Riddikkulus! Riddikkulus!" Ron shouted. The blood in the scene turned into tomato ketchup. The crazed Harry and the dead figures on the floor revealed themselves to be just pretending. Ron was pretty shaken up.
Hermione was next. She stepped forward. A book flew out. And another. An entire stack formed. 100 books, different shapes, sizes, colours, titles, authors, and then on top, a book of all knowledge. Suddenly, Draco strolled onto the scene. He tore through the books, tearing them to shreds. Then, he grabbed a match out of his pocket. He was about to set the books alight when...
"RIDDIKKULUS!" Hermione screamed. She banished the phantom of Draco, the burnt and shredded books. Hermione slowly slunk to the back of the room. Harry looked pleadingly at her. Then, the Boggart was released…
The only memorial Boggart the class would see. A small picture, sepia-faded yet brutal, began to play.
Stuck here. Alone. Abandoned. Feelings of hatred, of betrayal, of sorrow. Why? Why had he done that? And why had they accepted it? He sat, sharp edges cutting into his flesh. He had several wounds. Only a month. Only a month, but it felt like forever. He was still here. But why? A torn rag stuck to a wound. He called it a 'bandage'. Why was he in Azkaban? How could 1st year at a simple school go so horribly wrong?
A few days later. He was crying because he couldn't scream. They'd sliced his tongue. He couldn't speak. He couldn't bring himself to move more that to put a single, solitary tally mark on the scratched stone walls. Why couldn't they just hurry up and bring the Dementor's kiss? Why did they have to subject him to this misery first? He saw the figure at the door. A Dementor. He prepared himself for that day's inevitable torture. He built mental barricades. He chanted to himself that his friends were still coming. But they seemed like they wouldn't. Then, the flaying of skin began. Seconds, minutes, hours of torture. Then, he blacked out.
Harry, by now, was huddling on the floor, desperately trying to retreat from the Boggart. Suddenly, the memory came to life. Five Dementors in a chevron-like formation emerged, converging on Harry. The candles dimmed. The room was still frozen in shock. Then, Harry found a deep well of determination, desperation, and hope inside of him. He channelled it into one mighty incantation of "RIDDIKKULUS! RIDDIKKULUS! RIDDIKKULUS!" Three puffed away. Professor Lupin gasped. A solidified Boggart. Where the image of the fear becomes itself. I think, therefore I am, if you like. He gasped. A trail of smoke began to come out of Harry's mouth. He was receiving the Dementor's kiss. The entire class were chanting "RIDDIKKULUS! RIDDIKKULUS! RIDDIKKULUS!" No avail. Suddenly, it stopped. The Dementor withdrew. Lupin cried "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" and the Dementors disappeared. A white wolf glistened in the darkness, and brightened the room. However, Harry remained unmoving. Had the Dementor got him?
Harry was hunched over in a ball. He slowly groaned. Somehow, he had resisted the Dementor's kiss. He needed medical attention. He was in shock, and was hyperventilating. Hermione and Ron carried Harry to the hospital ward. It took three days for him to be healed. However, after those three days, he was safe, healed, and happy!
Two weeks later, the third-years were excited. All students from third-year and upward got to go to the local village, Hogsmeade. Harry called in at home on his way down, and picked up a small amount of money to buy a last minute present for Hermione. And by last-minute, Harry was buying this on Hermione's birthday. Harry scanned the shops. Perhaps… Yes, Hermione would like A History of Hogwarts: Unbiased Version of 'Hogwarts: A History', Currently on Version 3. That looked like just her type of book. He grabbed it and paid for it, as well as a huge bunch of sweets and a voucher to be used in any Hogsmeade store worth 50 galleons. He grabbed a piece of wrapping paper covered in the emblem of Ravenclaw house. He knew that Hermione would love it.
The trio met up around two o'clock in The Hog's Head, the local tavern. Hermione received both of her presents from her friends, Harry's bundle of gifts and Ron's Encyclopaedia Mugglatis (Muggle Encyclopaedia), which came in 7 thousand-page volumes. Hermione was overjoyed. Harry went to the bar.
"Three butterbeers please. Warm please." Harry asked. He handed over a galleon. He was given three butterbeers. Nothing abnormal. Ron downed his and then sauntered off to the quidditch shop. A hooded figure hiding outside noticed this and crept round the back. HE poured a flask into a nearly empty barrel. Two butterbeers left out of that. Then Hermione came to the bar. Two butterbeers were poured. The mysterious hooded figure cackled as he saw the duo down the drinks. The plan had worked…
