Scorpius raised his pallid hand high in the air instantaneously as if he were certain that the tips of his ashen fingers could reach the mottled roof. He released Albus from his grasp, a valiant smile glistening on his alluring face. There was absolutely no time to be hesitant or to second guess himself or even care what people thought of him. He knew the answer to the question.
Scorpius straightened his posture with a shy smile the second Neville had pointed at him. His voice came out rapid, as if he were afraid that time was not on his side; that class would soon be over before he got a word in.
"It is said that Boggarts are a dark splotch of nothingness! They are shapeshifters! Boggarts transform into what a person fear most. The best way to get rid of Boggarts is with laughter. Once you laugh and pronounce the Boggart-Banishing spell, Riddikulus, correctly, the Boggart should successfully vanquish." He explained breathlessly, evidently pleased with himself.
He knew about Boggarts like the back of his hand. He studied all about them even before he attended Hogwarts. He remembered quizzing his Dad about them during winter break and having his Father quiz him. His Dad even had bought him his own trunk to put the Boggart in so he could practice. As a child, he was too scared to open the trunk and see what his deepest fear was. He was too scared to face his own fear. Cranking open the trunk was the first and most difficult task that he had dreaded. That was always the tricky part. But when he was eleven, on summer break, after his first year at Hogwarts, he tried again, and his Boggart turned into something revolting. Something horrid, something foul, disgustingly warped, something that made him burst into tears and run desperately into his Father's arms, clinging onto him like glue, begging his Dad to rescue him from the horror he had seen. Something that even scared his own Father, who was forced to vanquish the Boggart while still holding onto his hysterical son. That was four years ago. He had practiced loads of time...his Boggart won't be so scary anymore. He'll be okay now. He had to be. He had to face his fear. He had to get rid of the Boggart himself.
No one else can face your fears for you, only you can. His Dad had told him. You've got to save yourself. Be prepared for anything.
Neville smiled proudly at Scorpius. "Excellent. 10 Points to Slytherin." He looked around the room inquisitively, "Does anyone know another way to get rid of Boggarts?"
"OH!" Scorpius cried, shooting his hand excitedly back in the air, nearly toppling Albus over with great enthusiasm. "You're stronger in numbers! It's best to face Boggarts with two or more people! That way, you confound the Boggarts since it will have trouble trying to morph into your fear! When there are more of you, the Boggart becomes confused and doesn't know which fear to turn into!"
Albus leaned close to Scorpius' ear. "Why don't you just teach the class for us?" he whispered.
Scorpius only smiled, his eyes knitted firmly on the crooked grandfather clock. This is it. This will be his moment. Once he gets the green light, he'll march over to that grandfather clock and face his Boggart. He knew that the Boggart was hiding in that clock since Boggarts tend to live in enclosed, tight and dark spaces.
"Well done. 10 more points to Slytherin," Neville grinned. "Now practice the incantation. Riddikulus! Put your wand away, please. Listen here! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Remember, tune out your greatest fear. Do not give your fear the power to break you. Channel your energy not on what's scaring you but what isn't. You all have it within you. You just have to believe in yourself and focus on how to make the Boggart look comical. Funny, even. Now...who would like to go first?"
"This is third year stuff," Polly rolled her eyes in dismay, drawing out her wand. "I'll go." She flicked her braids away from her face and nodded at Neville.
"Very well." Neville moved his arm to left to right, curling his fingers, silently mumbling a spell as he stirred his body towards the grandfather clock.
Swoosh.
It cranked open, and out emerged a gigantic Boggart, cloaked in nothingness, hovering over Polly, who hesitated for a moment, before trailing over to the Boggart with a stern look engraved on her unflinching face. She kept her wand on the Boggart, eyeing it with definite animosity. The Boggart hiccoughed and shivered, quickly morphing into Polly Chapman herself! There were several curious murmurs across the room, their astounded voices scorching like fire in the back of Polly's mind.
Polly blue eyes widened with stupefaction. This couldn't be real, could it? She wasn't—wasn't possibly afraid of herself!
The Boggart Polly sneered at her; she was swathed in all black; her zipped, heeled boots were as starless as the midnight sky, her long murky dress snared with burnished chains, her school robes just the same as the real Polly, except it was no longer emblazoned with the Gryffindor Crescent. She was house-less. Homeless.
Polly wheeled away from the Boggart Polly, who pursed her lips, smiling eerily at her, stretching out her scrawny arm to grab her, but Polly took a huge step back, trying not to wince. She had no time to be afraid, for everyone was watching her. One wrong move and her reputation would be history.
She pointed her hornbeam wand at the Boggart, her eyes unreadable. "Riddikulus!"
Instantly, the replica of Polly screamed, toppled backwards, and transformed into a small white rabbit, tiny enough to fit into her opened palm. The bunny jerked its pink button nose with marvel as its floppy ears bowed down just when it stuck out its tiny tongue and licked the floor, slowly hopping around the classroom, sniffing about.
The class erupted into laughter, clapping stridently as they pointed to the rabbit with smiles pasted on their animated faces. Everyone except for Polly, who walked over to the back of the class soundlessly. Grabbing her schoolbag and slinging it over her bony shoulder, she took one look at the bunny and stormed out.
"So," Neville called, pointing his thumb onto the once scary Boggart, clearly not noticing her early departure. He grinned at the giggling class, who all seemed to be having a great time. He watched Albus and Scorpius who were holding their bellies, laughing the hardest until they were practically in tears. The lesson is going quite well. Neville thought to himself, feeling a rush of exhilaration, knowing Remus Lupin would be quite proud of him right now. "Now, who's next?"
A familiar hand hoisted into the air with unmistakeable confidence and a hint of insecurity. "I am," Scorpius volunteered. "I'm ready!"
Scorpius walked up to the classroom and positioned his heavy books and bag to the corner of the room. He fished out his wand from his robes too excitedly and dropped it onto the floor. The rest of the class giggled, but Scorpius ignored them and picked up his wand, aiming at the bunny.
"Try me," he muttered through his gritted teeth.
His wand was not shaking as it usually was, Albus noticed, for it was extraordinarily unabashed.
Just like that, the rabbit was no more. Twisting and gurgling, it was brutishly heaved into the air, morphing into arresting colours and inexpressible shapes until finally, it was thrown onto the ground, and there lay panting was Astoria Malfoy.
No. It couldn't be her. Not Mum. Anything but that.
Mum wasn't Scorpius' Boggart when he was eleven. It was Voldemort. Voldemort was Scorpius's Boggart. Why did it change? He didn't understand. How could—how was this happening? What did it mean? Scorpius couldn't catch his breath. He didn't see his Mum for years. Not since she lay dying on her deathbed while Scorpius had helplessly watched...
Scorpius straightened his posture, blinking a few times, hoping this was some bizarre, twisted dream. The class, he realized, was deathly quiet. No one uttered a word. It felt like it was just him and his Mum; just the way it should be.
He immediately put his wand away. This was his Mum. She wouldn't attack him. Scorpius walked over to her, feeling as though he were about to pass out. He needed his Dad to be here. His Dad would have loved to see Astoria again. Scorpius reached out his hand, determined to touch her, to finally hold her again, but Astoria hissed at him, trying to claw her fingernails onto his pale face. Scorpius recoiled, jumping away with absolute fright.
"Mum?"
But that was the thing: this wasn't Mum. She kept coughing for she was deathly sick. She looked exactly the same on the day she died. Her eyes were bloodshot with heavy bags weighing her beautiful face down, marking her with an inexorable cruel fate which she did not deserve. She was dressed in her white nightgown adorned with cyclamens and was still wearing the "World's Greatest Mum" bracelet on her left wrist that Scorpius had made for her when she got sick.
"You should have saved me!" Astoria whispered in that feeble voice of hers. She crawled over to her son, gingerly embracing his dismayed, pained face. Scorpius closed his eyes at her gentle touch, holding her hand desperately, wishing so badly, that someone could fetch his Dad right now. He needed his Dad to be here. They would be a family, finally reunited. "You killed me, Scorpius!" Astoria spat with a sinister look in her eye. "You did nothing. Nothing! You just watched me die. It's your fault. YOU DID THIS TO ME!" Her voice grew darker, crueler.
"PROFESSOR!" Albus yelled. "PROFESSOR, DO SOMETHING!"
Neville, however, seemed as horrified as Scorpius, for he was rendered speechless, following Astoria's movements with his eyes.
"You killed your own mother," Astoria carried on.
Scorpius shook his head, removing her hands from him, his face was carved with hurt bewilderment. He could not believe that these words were coming from her.
"N-n-no...no. I didn't...I didn't...I—"
But she refused to let him finish. "I can't believe I was stuck with a pathetic son like you. You couldn't even save me."
"Scorpius, don't move!" Neville said in a shaky sort of voice, taking out his own wand. "I'll make her go away..."
Scorpius finally broke eye contact with his Mum. "Don't," he pleaded, turning to Neville. "She just wants to talk to me—"
Suddenly, Astoria threw up blood, panting weakly and holding her own long brunette hair as she puked, hyperventilating as she crawled away from the mess she made, sobbing loudly, covering her face with shame.
"MUM!" Scorpius screamed, falling to his knees. The moment his legs hit the floor, he felt Albus' protective arms draped around him, his own personal armour. But not even Albus would be enough. Not this time. "MUM!" Scorpius' scream was bloodcurdling and painful. He was crying hysterically, trying to reach her; to cup her into his arms, to clean up the vomit of red, to help her in any way he possibly could. To be the best son he could be...to set things right again. "Mummy!" He begged. "Please...I...I..." He struggled but couldn't find the words. He didn't know what he could say. Nothing he said could ever be enough. This pain was all too much. It was real and it was painful, and it consumed every inch of his soul.
Albus unravelled himself away from Scorpius, drawing out his own wand, and directed it at Astoria and within seconds she disappeared, and turned into a dark shadow skidding across the room, morphing in thought.
Albus shook his head furiously at his friend's ordeal. He collapsed by his side, pushing him into a hug. This Boggart was merciless. He didn't recall his Dad ever talking about the Boggarts with such revulsion. He recalled him talking about them normally; there wasn't anything especially excruciating about them.
Scorpius rose from his feet, shaking his head. "I-I...I'm sorry!" He wept, running out of the classroom, hiding his face.
"Scorpius. Scorpius!" Neville called after him, but the boy didn't look back once.
Some of the students watched in horrible silence while other laughed.
Albus turned, ready to go after Scorpius. He was seconds away from bolting out the door when he heard a nasty comment from one of the students.
"What a freak," Yann Fredericks laughed cruelly.
Yann Fredericks was the worst of the worst. Albus despised him. He was nothing but a bully. He hated him with every ounce of his body. Yann was nearly as tall as his brother, James, both avid players of Quidditch. He had dark, red corkscrew hair that was pulled into a rushed yet spotless ponytail with a few twines of hair dangling by his face like vines. He turned back to Albus, his black eyes gleaming with immense enthusiasm at Albus' petulance.
Albus grinded his teeth, his face contorted. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" he shrieked, drawing out his wand. He would do it this time. He would mutter a spell and it would work. He wanted Yann to suffer. "Really, tell me again. What did you call Scorpius?"
"That's enough!" Professor Longbottom snapped. It was rather difficult, being a Professor and an old friend of Albus'. Neville wanted nothing more than to leave the class and find Scorpius and cheer the poor bloke up, but since he was a Professor, he couldn't leave the class unattended. What's worse was witnessing another student poking fun at Scorpius' turmoil. That...that broke Neville's heart. He hoped things would change over the years. That Hogwarts would be slightly less awful; but it seemed, things only worsened greatly. "Albus, you're up!" Neville instructed rather uncomfortably.
"Ready to embarrass yourself a second time, Squib?" Yann asked, narrowing his eyes at Albus, finally putting his wand away, and sticking it in his pocket. Yann watched Neville's angry face from the corner of the room, shaking his head at him in warning, but Yann carried on, glaring at Albus. "I'm bloody surprised that your loser friend is a Pure-blood. Scorpius is weak and what's worse is he's afraid of his gross Mum. Did you see her puke?" He turned to Karl, both smiling widely, enjoying tormenting Albus. He creased his long nose. "Disgusting. He's nothing but a pathetic, useless—"
Albus charged over to Yann, sticking his wand at his throat. "TAKE IT BACK!" he yelled through gritted teeth, his eyes wild, pushing his wand further in Yann's flesh. "TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW!"
"BOYS!" Professor Longbottom hollered. "ENOUGH!"
Yann pulled his wand from his robes aiming it at Albus, who ducked the sparks of light, hitting the parchments of paper on Neville's desk, which burst into flames.
"Aguamenti!" Neville shrieked. A jet of blue waterfall sprayed from the tip of his wand, relieving the dancing flames of his marked papers. He turned to Albus and Yann with frustration. "Boys—"
"Stupefy!" Albus shouted and Yann was thrown backwards into the classroom, knocking down a basin of acid pops with a great thump.
Albus turned his heels to go, ready to leave, to find Scorpius, but Neville shook his head unhappily at him.
Albus lingered his green eyes towards Professor Neville's almond shaped irises, feeling awfully guilty that he caused so much destruction during his class. He didn't mean it. He just couldn't stand hearing someone say nasty things about Scorpius. Someone had to do something. He wanted to rip Yann apart, limb by limb and it wouldn't take much to do it.
The way Neville gawked at Albus made him feel rather remorseful; a knot tied in his stomach. He knew Neville was disappointed in him, and could Albus really blame him? They used to be quite close growing up since Neville was his Godfather. Things have changed significantly now and Albus knew he was responsible.
Neville was the person his Dad always invited to family gatherings and holidays. When Albus was a child, he made it a mission to creep downstairs with his thumb jammed in his drooling mouth, giggling while holding onto his older brother, who helped him down the stairs, knowing Albus was craving his favourite snack: buttered graham crackers. Albus would catch a glimpse of Neville who would be chatting and laughing delightfully with the rest of the gleeful, drunken adults. Whenever Neville would see Albus, he would smile knowingly and put his hand over his friendly eyes, signaling that he would not tell, for he did not see a thing, allowing him to steal another handful of crackers. That would always be a secret, a fun tradition. As the years rolled by, Albus' taste in desserts changed from buttered graham crackers to butter tarts, to chocolate frogs and pumpkin pies. Nevertheless, it was a fun tradition that both Neville and Albus enjoyed and furtively looked forward to during each gathering.
However, once Albus went to Hogwarts, Neville would never see him sneak downstairs for a snack. More to that, whenever Neville came by, Albus hardly even acknowledged his existence. He would scuffle a disinterested hello and be pushed by his parents to offer him a warm hug, although Albus' hugs were frigid as frost. After a scornful encounter with Neville, Albus, long-faced and sallow, would make his way up the stairs, not coming down to eat, or to make small chat or even to whisk away any more baked goods. He would stay in his room, Neville guessed, sulking in a sea of despair.
Now, years later, here they were, staring at each other like strangers. Neville did not want to punish Harry's kid, for Albus was the same young boy, trudging up and down the stairs with his snacks, grinning at Neville's playful nature. But at the same time, he did not want to give him special treatment. He had to be fair. Had to be professional.
"50 Points from Slytherin." He sighed, wrinkling his groomed moustache.
"Whatever," Albus mumbled, glaring at Yann, who at that moment rose to his feet, dangerously furious as he cracked his knuckles, a malicious smile growing in the corner of his mouth.
"You're dead," Yann mouthed at Albus, who muttered a curse word at him, trusting Neville could not hear.
"Albus!" Neville called out sharply, glaring at him. His Godson had transformed dramatically over the years. The same person he was looking at was certainly not the same toddler years ago. Neville's eyes locked onto the floating Boggart, which was gliding across the room unnervingly, a faceless ghost of darkness. It hovered closer to Albus, its filthy body tormented with the unsung tribulation of others. "Show us what your deepest fear is."