Black [1]

Chapter 8

We sit in the Great Hall the next morning, and Pansy Parkinson's fawning over Draco, tucking her short hair behind her ear and asking with wide eyes if his arm hurts. It's bandaged, and he's definitely milking the attention. "It comes and it goes. Still, I consider myself lucky. Madam Pomfrey said another minute and I could've lost my arm. I can't do homework for weeks."

Ron scoffs, turning back to us and rolling his eyes at how thick Draco's laying it on, and we're just glad Hagrid didn't get fired, even though Draco's father is furious. That's when Seamus starts running over and shouting, "He's been sighted! He's been sighted! Sirius Black!" That causes an uproar at our table, everyone getting up and rushing over to peer at the newspaper he throws down. Except me, that is. Firstly, I'm busying myself with taking an unhealthy interest in my jam toast. Secondly, I have a feeling that the news will get to me rather soon.

"Dufftown?" Hermione exclaims, proving my point almost immediately. "That's not far from here. You don't think he'd come to Hogwarts, do you? With Dementors at every entrance?"

An owl flies through the window, passing me, and an envelope lands in front of me. Instead of paying attention to the conversation about my father, I busy myself with my letter, opening it before skimming the writing, searching for good news. But what I find is so much worse than I could've expected.

I sit there for a moment, rereading the letter like I must've misunderstood, but how could I misunderstand something written so blatantly? My eyes start to sting and I abruptly stand up, running out of the hall. What are the chances of coincidence? Aiden calls my name after me, and even though she doesn't know what happened, I can hear Carlie taunting me and laughing as I rush out.

*

I can't stay away from classes forever. I locked myself in the dorm room until Aiden came looking for me, and after some coaxing he managed to get me to come out. I haven't said anything about the letter, but it's still in my pocket. My eyes are probably red from crying, but I haven't looked in the mirror. There's no need to, though. When we get to Defence Against The Dark Arts, Carlie makes it abundantly clear that I look a mess, making her cousin glare at her.

I usually enjoy Remus's classes, but today I just can't seem to. Those words from the letter keep coming back to me, making my blood run cold. How could this have happened? And it can't be a coincidence, can it?

There's some sort of wardrobe with a mirror on the exterior in the centre of the room, shaking violently like something's stuck inside. "Intriguing, isn't it? Would anyone like to venture a guess... as to what is inside?" Dean speaks up, commenting that it's probably a boggart, and Remus nods as he walks over to it. "Very good, Mr. Thomas. Now, can anybody tell me what a boggart looks like?"

"No one knows," Hermione says out of nowhere, making Ron jump at her sudden appearance. It doesn't make me smile as I used to. "Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the shape of whatever a person fears the most. That's what makes them so..."

"So terrifying, yes, yes, yes... Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let's practice it now. Without wands, please. After me. Riddikulus!" We all repeat it after him, although I do so quietly. "A little louder and very clear. Listen: Riddikulus!"

"This class is ridiculous," Malfoy mutters, arm still bandaged.

"Very good," Lupin nods, eyeing everyone. His gaze falls on me, and for a moment confusion flickers across his face. He doesn't know. I don't want to be the one to tell him. "So much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain. Neville, would you join me, please?" Neville freezes, looking around like there's another Neville, then finally starts walking forward. "Hello. Neville, what frightens you most of all?"