"I hate you, I love you
I hate that I love you
Don't want to but I can't put
Nobody else above you"
MARAUDERS ERA
plot by @nikolaislantsovs
cover design by @Thalina_Stark
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The heartbeat pounded in Remus' ears at the anticipation of his assessment; the assessment that would certainly reveal his condition to the whole group, and by extension the school. Exhaustion still lagged his muscles and likely impaired his judgement, and he couldn't think of a way around it without outright walking out of the test, something out of character for the Gryffindor. He couldn't quite bring his legs to do anything more than shuffle forwards as the line towards the front shortened. They felt like lead. Heavy, leaden, useless, and about to betray him.
"Riddukulus!" yelled the girl facing her boggart. It was Voldemort. Most of the class' was so far, albeit with wildly different interpretations. The only variety they'd witnessed thus far was a fear of heights and a fear of headless corpses. Flowers bloomed from the end of this Voldemort's crooked wand and a his pitch robes turned a violent shade of magenta that set the onlookers laughing. Two left now. Remus cast a glance over to the other line up against the dummy. It was easy to spot Sirius, already finished and staring at him anxiously. Peter, red-faced, was stuttering spells before the mannequin, obviously having some kind of stage-fright moment which Remus felt a pang of sorriness for. However, even Padfoot's encouraging thumbs up wasn't enough to give him hope that this would turn out well.
Remus turned back to the front when Camilla stepped forwards slowly, deliberately. And then the boggart changed.
The tone in the classroom became tense. Everyone leaned forwards in anticipation. What was the greatest fear of Camilla Sanders, the most powerful, bloody-minded and bloodthirsty witch at Hogwarts? It was hardly what anyone expected, let alone Remus, when three figures emerged. On either side, a stern, serious man with dark brown hair and a cold, regal woman with bright auburn hair and hard, flinty green eyes. In the centre, a young girl, pale haired and blue eyed with a huge smile, the absolute opposite to the flanking adults. What disturbed him was the lacerations covering her face and body, blood soaked through her light clothes, bruises across her arms and legs. It was as if the girl had been attacked by an animal or — flashes of the claws of Fenrir Greyback came to him in a rush — been beaten half to death. Remus, shaking away the memories that haunted him, had begun to ponder the significance of these phantoms when Camilla took a sharp step backwards in the direction of the doors. His eyes (along with the rest of the group's) snapped to her face and he had to stifle the shocked sound that escaped his throat. Yes, he was tired, but there wasn't any way to mistake it. Camilla had her mother's colouring, her attributes, but the features of her father. Easy to compare when her parents stood before them.
Despite the physical removal of herself from the boggarts, the redhead's reaction was minimal as far as Remus could see. She'd probably revealed her split second of emotion for the day while her back was turned to him, but spending long hours with the witch in an enclosed space allowed him to see past the mask. Just barely. But it was enough to tell that her demeanour was different, on edge. Camilla was scared.
