Author's note:
Hello hello,
Here is a new chapter. It might lack editing, for I was being the maid of honour at my sister's wedding this weekend and I literally had to rush through it so please, bear with me!
Thank you so much for the following and favouriting this story and for the review, it means a lot.
Happy Pentecost if you're celebrating.
I wish you a lovely Sunday!
February 1943 - The Boggart in the Grandfather Clock
Annabel was sitting on one of the stools in the greenhouse as she absentmindedly sucked on a lollipop. She glanced at the papers scattered before her, a mix of handwritten notes and printed parchments before she reached for the message from her Herbology teacher:
"As a brief reminder: It is not uncommon for the written part of the Herbology examination to add a few bonus questions regarding the knowledge acquired recently, that is not part of the O.W.L's curriculum. Certainly it cannot save a bad paper but at this stage, every point counts so please, have a look at the next semester's programme as well"
She re-read the highlighted sentence and she could picture in her head the face her professor probably made while writing it.
It was a week now that she was giving tutoring lessons and it had not been a choice.
The mock exams of the Ordinary Wizarding Level had taken place right after the Christmas break: two intensive weeks of hard work that had left all the Fifth Years incredibly worn out. If Annabel and her friends had done incredibly well, many of their fellow classmates had failed miserably. The Slytherins, who were never the last ones to search for someone to blame, pined it on the many Muggle-born students that kept being integrated to the school. They accused them of monopolising the teaching staff's attention while lowering the school's level, which supposedly greatly affected Hogwarts' rank in the rating of wizarding schools. Sadly, the results of the new kids only confirmed such bias. Even though the Headmaster openly negated such defamatory comments, the rumour began to spread inside the Parent-Teacher Association and the school's atmosphere was stifling. As a reaction, the teaching staff put into place mandatory tutoring lessons for everyone in need. The heads of houses were asked to gather their best students, and Annabel, among others, had been required to provide support. "Contrarily to the prefect's position, this is not optional, Miss Selwyn" had sternly informed her Professor Wingly, the head of Ravenclaw, after she convoked Annabel and a handful of other blue and silvers in her office to announce they were expected to help. One week later, Annabel was tutoring students in Herbology twice a week.
The girl reached for her textbook and discarded the pile of past papers of the O. . to the side.
"Mandrakes, Dittany, Belladonna…" she read out loud before she heard the first students enter the glasshouse, about a dozen Fifth Years. She knew some of them already, but most faces were unfamiliar. They were late, but they always were, and they once blamed that other tutoring lesson they had before hers as the prime reason for their lack of punctuality.
She threw away the wooden stick of her lollipop in the nearby garbage bin and took the register. Her quill moved magically on the parchment and ticked all names of the students who confirmed their attendance. A few names later, she asked for a Monty Bennett.
"Monty Bennett?" she questioned again, lifting her eyes from the list of names when a voice meddled in.
"He's here but he can't speak"
"What do you mean he can't speak?"
Annabel spotted the boy whose hand was raised in the air to indicate his presence. He opened his mouth, obviously forgetting about his sudden mutism, for his lips began to move but no sound came out. She turned to the girl who just spoke and shot her a quizzical glance.
"He did not manage to counter the jinx during the previous tutoring"
She must have looked puzzled, because the girl explained:
"He was chatting with his friends instead of listening to the explanation the tutor was giving, so he was asked to come to the dais to show how to counter the tongue-twisting curse. Obviously he didn't know how to counter it"
"And he was dismissed after class just like that?"
At the sight of the girl's nodding, Annabel pressed her lips together. She asked, even though she believed she knew the answer already.
"What course was it?"
"Defence Against the Dark Arts"
Anna walked towards the boy and pointed her wand at his mouth, freeing the poor boy quickly under the bemused gazes of the students. She headed back to where she initially stood with a sigh. It was the second time this week. She already had to send a girl to the infirmary two days before, for she had been bitten by a snake whose fangs inflected wounds that never healed, and she was bleeding everywhere.
She had to have a word with Tom Riddle.
—
He heard brisk footsteps in the corridor, and he could have bet his own head that he knew who they belonged to.
"Could you please stop hurting my students?" dropped Annabel Selwyn as she appeared in front of the classroom's door he had left ajar, her grey eyes narrowing when they settled on the prefect. Tom was pointing his wand towards the blackboard where a sponge began to wipe the notes he had written with a chalk, the spellings of words to cast counter-jinxes and other complex terms.
"Good evening Annabel" he replied, wondering if it became a habit of hers to lose all politeness in his presence.
She sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest, standing in the doorframe.
"You were saying?" he asked with indifference and he noticed that her brown hair was dishevelled and that she sounded slightly out of breath. He supposed she had rushed from the glasshouse to catch him before he would leave after his second tutoring lesson, and he imagined her crossing the school's park in haste, her pace swift and irate. She looked like she had recovered from the great exhaustion the mock exams had submitted them to, for she seemed well-rested, despite her lips she was pressing together and the exasperated sighs her delicate nose was letting out.
He had barely seen her since the after-game party. November had made way for December and soon enough were they snowed under their revising, having no time to dedicate to anything else but learn by heart the Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration or try to remember the date of the death of Emeric the Evil. He had heard she had done extremely well at the OWLs though, that she was the second best student of the entire school after him.
"I had to help that Hufflepuff today, whose tongue looked like a sailor's knot while I already sent away this Gryffindor girl two days ago. Another student passed out at the sight of the girl's blood for it was leaking out of the makeshift bandage she had made after exiting your class"
Her tone was sharp but he understood her frustration. She was also stuck with tutoring mediocre students but he wondered whether she believed, like he the other Slytherins did, that those who needed help had failed less because of their poor intellect than because they had spent the Christmas holidays feasting on toffees while playing chess with their family and friends instead of revising assiduously for the exams.
Of course, he did not tell her that he believed most of the latter were Muggle-born students. Contrarily to Nott, who had been assigned the Potions' tutoring and who asked the Mudbloods to manipulate perilous liquids that could cause, in worst cases, fatal damages, Tom's wrath had the merit to fall equitably upon anyone who dared disturbing his tutoring. The boy recalled the Hufflepuff he had jinxed just earlier that evening, mainly because he did not seem to find his teaching important enough for paying attention to what he was saying. He had asked him to join him on the dais, and he had been annoyed by the boy's disdainful air, so he thought he would teach him a lesson. Besides, even if he would not have been angered by the boy's manners, he would have had to nominate someone all the same, for the practice of DADA often required to have a skilled partner on whom he could rely, which he cruelly lacked, and which he pointed to.
"Sadly I haven't been provided with anyone to team with and I have no other choice but to ask some students to volunteer, for the sake of demonstrating how to counter curses"
She seemed to find his excuse rather unconvincing, for she was already snapping back at him.
"How about your Slytherin friends? Or your admirers? You cannot tell me that no one is willing to support you with such a task"
He wondered if she alluded to that one girl that had waited for him after their Herbology class that day, to ask him if he would go out with her on the next weekend. He had discarded the girl's offer, for his overloaded schedule barely allowed for any hookups, let alone have a girlfriend, but he had caught Annabel's grey eyes lingering on him and the girl as she exited the greenhouse and walked past them.
"Slughorn refuses to involve any student who did not obtain only Os at the exams" he replied sternly. "As you may know, it leaves very few people outside you and I. But you can volunteer if you wish" he asked with a provoking smile.
She rolled her eyes. He expected her to fling another nasty comment at him and leave without further ado but to his surprise, she entered the room and began to walk around.
"Fine. But at least free them on time" she said with a compromising tone as she walked towards the various caged creatures that were placed against the wall.
"What are these?" she asked with a frown as she kneeled in one corner and peeked through the glass window of a vivarium to stare at a bunch of greenish gastropods.
"Flesh-eating slugs" he replied as he watched her inspect the creatures through the pane.
"Is it part of the next semester's programme?"
"It's for the Seventh Years"
She hummed and rotated on her feet nimbly while he jumped on the dais to gather his notes and textbook.
He found himself being pleased to see her, that she lingered in the classroom, as if she was waiting for him so they could walk together to the Great Hall. He remembered that he sometimes waited for her the previous year, when she was detained at the library and he stayed late to study, until he was being chased away by the librarian's assistant. The thought of their estrangement suddenly struck him. They were not close back then but they connived with each other, and he sometimes found himself longing from that previous familiarity with the girl. He knew he was the one to blame, for he had prioritised his education at the cost of their time spent together in the woods, when they did things much more entertaining than simply learning about tedious potions' lists of ingredients and boring charms. He wondered if the circumstances had been different, how much this would have affected their proximity, whether they would have grown closer, and if she would be now dating that stupid Quidditch captain she was still seeing...
He dismissed that thought, for he found himself strangely riled, like each time he ran into them together.
Yet, he did not let any of his internal struggle show and he simply busied himself near the desk, gathering his belongings in a calm and measured way.
"And what is that for?" she asked as she pointed her finger at a grandfather clock that stood before him.
"It's where the school's boggart is hiding. I asked Professor Merrythought to have it brought here so we could practice the boggart-banishing spell last week" he answered as he slid his textbook inside his bag.
"The boggart-banishing spell was not part of the mock exams"
"It wasn't, but it will definitely be part of the OWLs"
"How can you be so sure?"
"It had been asked in literally each and every single OWLs session for years" he simply replied, surprised by the cautious glances she was shooting the pendulum. He knew most students feared boggarts, for few of them knew how to cast the counter-spell, which was exactly why he wanted the students to practice. They already did the week prior, with mixed results... One boy had been so scared that he had bursted into tears after the boggart turned into a woman with a ruddy face, a rolling pin in hand, who screamed so loud everyone had to cover their ears with their hands. Yet, he had not expected to find such reaction in her.
He walked to the chair where he had left his jacket and after long minutes of staring at the pendulum, she mentioned, her voice only a whisper.
"I have never faced a Boggart"
Tom frowned, stunned by her confession. For a second, he thought she was pranking him, until he noticed the uneasiness of her breath, the way she was chewing on her lower lip.
Only then did he remember that she hadn't been there for that one special class a year prior, when they had learned how to defend themselves against such creatures. Professor Merrythought had announced she would gather all Fourth Years for an extraordinary session, after the school's janitor found the Boggart hiding in a grandfather clock within the storehouse, behind an armour and tons of old and crumbling furnitures the school's staff intended to get rid of. The session was meant to take place during a warm afternoon some time in May, which had coincided with the funerals of Annabel's grandfather. Tom, who had known at the time what a Boggart was, had desperately searched for a way to conceal what he truly dreaded, until he read in an old textbook that an alternative to "Riddikulus" existed, yet required a fantastic willpower, for it consisted in convincing yourself, and therewith the creature, that you feared something else than what you truly apprehended.
The Slytherin recalled the drops of perspiration that had run down his spine as he had waited in line behind his fellow classmates, desperately trying to persuade himself that he was afraid of something trivial, like not passing an exam, which thankfully had worked, so well that his DADA professor then had a word with Slughorn, who then had wanted to have a word with him, to enquire whether he was able to handle the pressure right. Tom had reassured his house head, of course. He had insured him he was all right, that he was only slightly stressed and needed a short rest, which had pleased the professor. Tom had faced the Boggart a few days later, at night, alone, to find out that being stressed by an exam was in fact so very commonplace compared to what he was truly scared of, for what terrified Tom was nothing but death itself.
"You simply need to ridicule it when it appears in front of you" he announced with a shrug as he jumped off the dais, his bag on his shoulder. She stood rooted to the spot despite him heading towards the door.
"Ridicule it?"
"The Boggart will appear in the shape of what scares you most. Laughter is the easiest way to overcome your fear"
She was quiet, as if mulling over what he just taught her.
"Is there no other way?"
"There is, but now is not the right time to discuss this" he issued her, for she was still in the middle of the room and he well intended to make it to the Great Hall before the end of the service. She turned her grey eyes to him, her hands in front of her chest, her fingers fidgeting.
He switched off the lights with a wave of his wand and she walked towards him with reluctance. Tom locked the door and they walked down the corridor. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her bring her hand to her mouth and bite on her thumb's nail in that bad habit of hers whenever she was feeling anxious. He had noticed such mannerism while observing her in that one class they shared, when she omitted a detail in her answer to that one question from their Herbology teacher once, and when she showed up late to the greenhouse a few weeks ago. And also, whenever she glanced at the door of the greenhouse, noticing that the Quidditch captain was waiting for her after class...
"What other ways are there?" she repeated, her tone pressing.
"Why do you want to know? You'll do just fine with the boggart-banishing spell" he replied matter-of-factly.
They reached the marble staircase, their pace synchronised and he looked absentmindedly at a few students that exited the Great Hall.
"But people will know what scares you then" she cautiously argued and he shot her a side look.
"And?"
"Well, this is rather private, don't you think?"
"You don't want people to find out that you're scared of your grandfather" Tom asked bluntly and she darted him a glance full of innuendo.
"It would raise unnecessary questioning" she admitted after a while as she looked away. "Did you use the boggart-banishing spell yourself?"
He smiled. She was clever.
"Of course not"
"Do you think you could possibly teach me how to defeat the Boggart in a more subtle way?"
"So?" she insisted as they reached the Entrance Hall, and he peeked at the Slytherins' table where some of his friends were still eating. He hesitated, for increasing how many hours he was already dedicating to helping others was definitely nothing he wished. Yet, he found himself in needing her help again, for some parchments he had found, after one conversation he had had with Slughorn during the Christmas break. He used to meet the house head of Slytherin often during the holidays, for a tea - or something stronger sometimes - and he always took advantage of the time to assail the Potion Master with his many questions, for he found him much more lenient in such occasions. His recent investigations dealt with the different ways to keep one's soul alive despite a decaying body and Slughorn had mentioned something about Horcruxes. Tom did find some parchments archived in the Restricted Secion but this time, he did not need Annabel for her smuggling skills... The document was entirely in Arabic. He had tried to translate it himself of course at first, until he faced the hard truth that his level was simply not good enough to translate such an old document... Seen under this new light, such opportunity came at the right time, and Tom thought he could probably spare one or two hours to teach Annabel how to get rid of that Boggart if she helped him in exchange.
"I might need you for some translation work" he finally replied. "If you do so, I'll teach you. That way you can avoid ending up on the front page of the Daily Prophet in June"
"Thank you" she sighed in relief. "When?"
"Next Saturday"
She seemed to hesitate.
"Next Saturday is Valentine's day"
"Do you have plans with your boyfriend?" he queried, falsely genuine and she shot him a black look.
"If it's the only appointment you can grant me I'll take it" she replied in haste and he could not help but smirk.
"Good. They'll move the pendulum out of the castle this week but I'll bring you to the storehouse. Meet me at our spot at two o'clock"