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It always began with the rain — relentlessly harsh and unapologetic as it crashed down on crimson soaked skin — grey clouds lulled over the sky as an indecipherable sound was whispered. Then, it all faded into a harrowingly empty nothingness.
Mara awoke with a gasp, sweat dripping from her forehead, like she does every now and again. When she managed to fall asleep the night before? She wasn't quite sure. But what she did know, was that she should have realised that from that point on, her day was going to be absolutely shit.
The matter of the fact was, though, that Mara was holding out a slight sliver of optimism for her first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Sure, she wasn't quite sure how to feel about the subject; on the one hand, both the teachers that she had, had attempted to murder her brother. But they'd always given her good grades ( so she really had to give them the benefit of the doubt ). But Professor Lupin seemed quite unlike the others — she foolishly had thought that was a good thing — but really could you blame her? He was just so enthusiastic when he ( eventually, because clearly he liked to be fashionably late ) began raving about Boggarts in his wardrobe.
"Now, can anyone tell us what a Boggart looks like?" Lupin questioned. It seemed to Mara that his eyes remained firmly on the Gryffindors whilst he awaited a response — like they were the only ones in the world who knew anything.
How hadn't she realised it yet?
"It's impossible to know," Mara spoke up after an excruciating minute of silence. "Boggarts take the form of whatever a person fears the most. So it's different for everyone."
"Exactly, yes." Lupin nodded with a reminiscent grin. "Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. Let's practice it now, shall we? Without wands, please. . . riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" The class echoed. Aside from Draco Malloy, that was, who gave a snide remark — as per usual.
"Good," the Professor seemed rather pleased that he'd managed to hold everyone's attention. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. What really finishes a Boggart off is laughter." Upon noticing the plethora of incredulous looks, he elaborated. "You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing." With a quick scan of the room, he chose his target. "Neville, will you come up here?" The poor guy could never catch a break.
Neville's whimper resounded throughout the tightly packed classroom as the wardrobe shook again — there was thirty other options Lupin could've picked from, and he still chose the most petrified of them all. At that point, the boy just had to accept that he had abysmal luck.
"Right Neville, what would you say is the thing that frightens you the most in the world?" Probably getting killed in a Defence against the Dark Arts lesson, Mara presumed, thinking back to the time he was hung from a chandelier by four Cornish pixies. It was a right laugh — to all who weren't Neville, that was.
The boy muttered something incomprehensible. Upon noticing the lack of a reaction, he cleared his throat, "Professor Snape." There was a brief pause of understanding silence — who hadn't been threatened by Snape at least once in their brief school lives? — before the class simply erupted in laughter.
Following a sheepish blush as he dropped his gaze to the wooden floor, Neville found himself face-to-face with the Boggart Snape, ( who really was just as intimidating as the real one — that Boggart had skills, no doubt ) encompassed in his grandmothers lace-trimmed clothes. It would take a good three to five business days before Snape gained back some of that hard-earned fear he'd instilled in the third years.
A line quickly formed behind the wardrobe, the class pushing and shoving their way to the front had resulted in Mara standing aloofly a few people behind her brother, who was laughing heartily at Ron Weasley's cries of terror in seeing the largest spider known to man creep its way towards him.
Mara seemed to have gone to someplace distant as the class faced their fears, only being knocked out of her daze by a familiar voice. "Mar, you really should've shoved your way to the front of the queue!" A dishevelled Heidi Abbott berated the Potter girl, who was the only one of the Ravenclaw group to have not faced the Boggart yet. "I mean! Did you see those crows in front of me? I've never been so scared!" Heidi had been afraid of crows ever since her sister told her that, if she saw a murder of them, she would surely die the following day. That never happened, but dear god was the blonde still petrified of the chance it may.
"It wasn't as bad as mine — you lot haven't understood true horror until you've watched the IT movies. Pennywise is scary as." Lena said with a shiver. "Aw, Lucas, are you still afraid? It's gone now, you're all good." The girl said with a laugh, looking at Lucas who's face was contorted into a look that could only be described as pure pain.
"Shut up, Harris." He tried to move the conversation away from him, "what do you think yours will be, Mar?"
The girl shrugged, "guess we'll have to find out. Who knows, I may be fearless."
Lena snorted, "yeah right, and Lucas isn't afraid of-"
The brunet boy clamped a hand over her mouth, why did it have to come back to him? "Oh! It's Harry's turn."
Shit. She'd finally realised it. By some miracle, she'd managed to neglect the feeling of impending doom until that moment. And then, the voices came. Interject. Help him. Those dementors won't stop coming for him.
And they were right. Before Harry stood ( or floated? Who knew? ) a dementor. It was like he was made of glass, even the slightest of movements would cause him to shatter into pieces on the hard-wood floor.
Mara didn't remember running up to her brother, she couldn't recall asking him if he was okay and she certainly hadn't realised that the class had fell into an eerie silence. Because no longer was Harry's Boggart on display. . .
. . . But rather, before the twins stood a distorted James and Lily Potter, with disdain looming in their eyes.
