Till Forever Falls Apart

Third Year: The Business of the Boggart

*Mentions/descriptions of death... happy easter!

September 3, 1993

Whoever had decided to put the Slytherins and Gryffindors together in Potions class was out of their minds.

It seemed that everyone had raised their aggression towards each other over the summer, and not a single class went by without a smart comment from one side or the other. A flurry of insults, digs, and scowls was shared between the children, and they were hardly a week into the school year.

As a Ravenclaw, Val liked to think she was Switzerland. A mediator among wars, having no strong hatred for either side except for the girl seated to her left. She tried to cut her roots in peace, but Pansy had taken it upon herself to be an absolute pain no one else seemed to mind except Val's friends.

Snape had singled out Neville (for the third time-Val was starting to keep track) and told the poor boy his toad would be fed the remnants of his failing potion at the end of the class. Hermione had secretly helped him once the professor had turned his back, and an argument was brewing between Ron, Harry, and Draco, who had decided the two Gryffindors were awful at chopping roots.

Seamus and Dean were conversing discreetly, and Val was just able to make out the last bits of their conversation.

"Have you heard about Greyback?" Seamus shook his head. "They say he's been sighted."

"Where?" Dean asked, stirring their concoction. "Is he near us?"

"Almost," the Irish boy replied, gleaming with excitement. Val's stomach turned uneasily. "A muggle saw him, and she called to report him, but by the time the Ministry got there, he had already escaped. Again."

"I think you should start hiding now, Val," Pansy looked back at the instructions, smiling wickedly.

Val had raised a spoonful of the potion to her eyes, but upon hearing this, she almost spilled it everywhere. She jumped from her stool to clean the mess, flicking her wand at the puddle near her feet, hoping she didn't look as panicked as she felt. "Why?"

"Your grandfather's practically the cause of the older attacks, starting his crackdown on werewolves," the girl responded casually. "He was right. They're awful creatures, and I don't think they should be allowed on the same-"

"I don't remember asking for your opinion on werewolf rights," said Val hotly, feeling a burning in her throat.

"We don't use our wands to clean in Potions," Snape stared narrowly at her. "Next time, use a rag."

"Yes, sir," Val said without looking up, adding the last ingredients to her cauldron.

"Pst," Blaise whispered. Both girls turned, but he chose to focus on Pansy. Theo was to his right, and almost startled Val when she noticed him looking at her. He looked bored, as per usual, saying nothing when she listened to the boy next to him.

"How does yours look like that?" He said in a voice barely above mouthing the words.

Pansy looked smug. "We-I followed the directions."

Val frowned. "Anyways. Add four caterpillars-not five. They overdo it and it will come out better. Really shake the wormwood, and gently rattle the spleens. That should do the trick."

Blaise contemplated, looking at Theo, who stared back, having an entire conversation with not a single movement of either of their mouths. "Okay."

They returned to their cauldron, trying to save their potion.

Pansy was livid. "One day, your guessing game won't work."

"It's not guessing," Val watched the liquid, deciding it was just the right color. "It's knowing."