He wouldn’t have been surprised, to be perfectly frank, if she had laughed at him. Oh, it did sound remarkably pathetic, even before one found themselves in plain sight of this - boggart. He had done similarly badly against one back in school (the only time he could recall dealing with one), and though it had since faded from his memory, this brought back the one vexing black mark on the rest of his Defence Against the Dark Arts scores.
The stranger had not taken it upon herself to laugh (yet, to his face), but instead had had to take the situation into her own hands, and succeeded in casting the spell. Evander stared as her imagination took effect, wrangling the newspaper chaos into chaos of a different kind. He did not know what had sparked the thought of it, but - well - it would certainly do. Quite in spite of himself, Evander let out a bark of laughter as the first firework shot up from the teapot - though perhaps more in startled surprise than enjoyment just yet.
The boggart must be startled too, at this attack, for the fireworks kept popping. He supposed it was only a side-effect, but the distraction of it did save him from continuing to dwell on the finer details of the newspaper horrorshow. And perhaps at last he might lend a hand and be useful, instead of a complete codfish. “Riddikulus!” He echoed, finding a firmer voice than he’d only a moment ago, and watching as the newspapers fizzed up into more flares, the one on the wall becoming a spinning catherine-wheel. As for the armchairs, Evander concentrated on them and pictured the pillows popping in a similar fashion, finding a terribly odd and relieving sense of satisfaction when the back cushion of the armchair exploded into a firework of feathers. Odd, you see, because he had never considered that destroying things to the rhythm of ear-bursting combustions in the sky might be so satisfying an endeavour. It turned out it rather was. And, indeed - to the boggart’s chagrin, finally, and not his own - he found himself on the cusp of another laugh.
The stranger had not taken it upon herself to laugh (yet, to his face), but instead had had to take the situation into her own hands, and succeeded in casting the spell. Evander stared as her imagination took effect, wrangling the newspaper chaos into chaos of a different kind. He did not know what had sparked the thought of it, but - well - it would certainly do. Quite in spite of himself, Evander let out a bark of laughter as the first firework shot up from the teapot - though perhaps more in startled surprise than enjoyment just yet.
The boggart must be startled too, at this attack, for the fireworks kept popping. He supposed it was only a side-effect, but the distraction of it did save him from continuing to dwell on the finer details of the newspaper horrorshow. And perhaps at last he might lend a hand and be useful, instead of a complete codfish. “Riddikulus!” He echoed, finding a firmer voice than he’d only a moment ago, and watching as the newspapers fizzed up into more flares, the one on the wall becoming a spinning catherine-wheel. As for the armchairs, Evander concentrated on them and pictured the pillows popping in a similar fashion, finding a terribly odd and relieving sense of satisfaction when the back cushion of the armchair exploded into a firework of feathers. Odd, you see, because he had never considered that destroying things to the rhythm of ear-bursting combustions in the sky might be so satisfying an endeavour. It turned out it rather was. And, indeed - to the boggart’s chagrin, finally, and not his own - he found himself on the cusp of another laugh.
