Eros watched as his classmates took their turns with the boggart. He wondered what sort of trauma each had or which specific type of fear each had for the boggart to manifest the way it did for them. Some had to have the professor step in and Eros felt a little better that he had managed to be successful in his own endeavour. Not that there was anything wrong with needing help, of course.

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eros is half-veela which means females tend to feel drawn to him with older ladies feeling protective of him

Maeve had no idea what his deepest fear might be nor was he keen on confronting it in a classroom full of his peers. Thus he had hung back, hoping to get lucky and go unnoticed. He shot his friend Cadogan a sympathetic look when the others fear had to be stopped by the professor rather than Cad himself. He was not close enough to see what the letter said or anything but clearly it must be something his friend thought to be truly terrible.

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At Level

  

Yuri's stomach twisted like a snake as the boggart cupboard clicked open. He didn’t want to go. Not because he was scared—he was always scared, that was normal—but because he didn’t know what he’d see.

He stepped forward anyway. Because the professor said to. Because others were watching. Because he wasn’t a coward. Probably.

The boggart exploded from the cupboard in a shriek of smoke and shadow—and then she was there.

Victoria Hatfield.

She looked the same as in the memories he tried not to have: pink little smile, silver curls swept back under a dainty hat. Her wand hung at her side, loose and lazy like a cat’s tail, and her eyes twinkled with faux affection, but echoing and terrifying, a cackle like a wicked witch from fairy tales.

“Oh, Poddy,” she half cackled half purred. “You’ve put on weight. How sweet. So much more stone to work with now.”

Yuri’s whole body locked.

He couldn’t move.

He was six years old again, shivering in the parlor in nothing but a shift, belly full of custard creams and trust.

Her wand rose.

“Don’t worry, love. You’ll look just perfect in the garden.”

His feet itched, like moss was already growing there. The air tightened around him. He could feel the stone rising in his skin.

He reached for his wand with a shaking hand. The others were yelling encouragement. He heard someone say something, maybe his name.

He raised his wand. It felt like lead.

“R-R-…” His mouth was dry. The incantation tangled behind his teeth.

He tried to think of something happy. Anything.

But his mind was full of stone.

Stone under his skin. Stone in his bones. Cold, frozen, forgotten.

Happy memory, come on. Something.

The Quidditch pitch. The wind in his hair. The crowd cheering. His friends shouting his name. The thrill when his broom listened —

A spark lit in his chest.

“RIDDIKULUS!” he roared.

Nothing happened.

  

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MJ Made Beautiful Things!

Greta watched the other students approach their Boggarts and wrestled with herself. She normally liked DADA and the Professor and logically knew that it was probably good to practice in banishing a Boggart in a safe environment than to come across one in the wild and be so struck down with being confronted with ones fears that they couldn't move and only ever having practiced and never having never actually performed the spell required to defeat it but she couldn't help but feel as if the whole thing was perverse in a way. In what other class would they be required to willingly show their classmates their deepest fear - their own nightmare fuel? It was like willingly trusting them all with the knowledge and hoping that any who disliked you enough to use the revelation as ammunition would just choose not to.

She hoped that nobody hated her that much however she knew she wasn't exactly the best person at making friends and was more likely than not to get on the bad side of others.

She knew she’d have to do it eventually and she knew what she was going to see; afterall she still had the nightmares - but hoped that at least maybe Genia's face wouldn't be involved because that would certainly be embarrassing and she could not take that along with having to show people that she was now afraid of the dark.

She waited her turn behind Antelope Grace and Yuri Podsnapper, watching as other students succeeded and failed, to confront their fears... Antelope's necromantic cat and the Yuri's cackling woman... now those along with Wren and Eros's Boggarts - that was nightmare fuel. She put her faith in the professor taking care of them, just like he'd taken care of those before but she couldn't help herself chanting the banishment spell in her head and gripping her wand just a little bit tighter - just encase. She'd go down fighting and helping whoever she could if it ever came to it and the thought and the knowledge that this was most certainly the truth gave her courage.

  

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Av&Sig by MJ

Charms Club

Flying Club

Transfig

Ancient Studies

Charms

Herbology

DADA

Alchemy

Potions

Potions Club

Transfig Club

Defense Against the Dark Arts had, undoubtedly, become one of Hettie's favorite classes. She fostered a fondness for any class where she could get her wand out, really try something, and perhaps Transfiguration had DADA beat, but only by the slightest margin. Regardless, this was the class which seemed to stick in her head first.

She had been looking forward to Boggarts for some time. Ever since the concept had been explained to her, and that must have been a couple of years ago now. She often wondered what hers might look like, and for the life of her Hettie still hadn't a clue. What did she fear? She'd been told her problem was that she had no fear. Reckless to a fault, flying in the face of consequences for the sake of sheer spite, mischief in her soul which was utterly unbecoming of so pretty a lady...

Well, the time was now. She had only to wait her turn and she would find out exactly what she feared, wouldn't she?

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“Thank you for volunteering.” Gus said with a smile as he stepped back, waiting for the young Hufflepuff to be ready before he released the boggart, which twisted and coalesced into the spectral form of a cat. She cast Riddikulus, but the spell lacked the spark it needed. The cat’s form wavered but did not change.

Gus stepped forward, raising his wand, although he gave Miss Grace another opportunity because he knew she was good at his class. However, she didn’t seem to have anything in mind for how to make the boggart twist into something else. Before he could raise his wand to help her, Ms. Grace cast the spell again and suddenly the ghostly feline was transformed. It wore a comically oversized wizard’s hat that flopped over one eye and a pair of tiny, ridiculous spectacles.

The boggart shrank back, and the professor guided it back into the wardrobe. “Well done, Miss Grace.” Gus smiled at her before he turned back to as who was next, although it appeared Mr. Podsnapper was rearing to go as he stepped up.

Gus stepped back toward the wardrobe to release the boggart again, watching as it twisted into the form of a woman he didn't recognize... not that he ever recognized any of the faces the boggart ever twisted into. He waited, allowing the young Hufflepuff a moment to cast the spell, although once he did (with quite the ferocity) nothing happened to the boggart and she kept stepping toward him. With a practiced flick, he cast Riddikulus. The woman turned into an overlarge tea cup with her face painted on it - every time she spoke, it was just a shrill whistle rather than words. He guided it back into the wardrobe.

“Well cast,” Gus murmured, because he had put his all behind it. Then he turned to the class. "Who's next?"

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Learn how to earn HP as a DADA Student and/or Hufflepuff

Cad was just happy that his turn had come and gone, so now he could just sit back and watch others attempt the spell. Maeve still hadn't gone, so Cad shuffled a bit closer to his friend, knocking their shoulders together. "Why don't you go up there?"

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Yuri hadn’t sat back down after the boggart vanished. His hands were still clammy, heart still hammering behind his ribs. The professor was moving on—calling out names, letting others take their turns—but something twisted in Yuri’s chest and kept him standing.

That feeling from a few minutes ago—when he’d shouted the spell, it had been real. Warm, even. Like someone had struck a match inside his ribs. And maybe… maybe he could do more with that.

It was his turn again, Yuri stood in the center of the floor, wand raised. His knuckles were white where they gripped it, but he focused—hard—on the thought. Not of the statue. Not of the cold or the moss or the feeling of being trapped.

He thought of Mondragon, handing him that thick wool coat and not asking for anything in return.

He thought of Billie, laughing so hard after a Quidditch match that pumpkin juice came out of her nose.

He thought of himself, midair on a broomstick in the frost-blue sky, wind tearing through his hair, the pitch wide open below.

A rush. A warmth. A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Expecto Patronum!” he shouted, like he meant it.

The tip of his wand sputtered. A silvery cough of light shot out—like steam, or a ghost trying to decide if it really wanted to leave. It fizzled at once, but…

It had been there. Light. Real light. He blinked, breath catching in his throat.

“…That count?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Or too shaken. Hatfield was cackling at him again, and he was fighting hard to hide his look of horror.

  

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MJ Made Beautiful Things!