The Chosen One [#Wattys2016]

NEVILLE'S BOGGART

There was a noise like a whip crack and Neville's worst fear was on view for the whole class to see.

Sprawled on the dusty classroom floor was Avaline Snape, bloodied and clearly dead.

The class stared in utter silence as Neville's worst fear was revealed. You could have heard a pin drop.

All the air seemed to vanish from Neville's lungs as he saw his best friend on the floor. His brain seemed to be numb as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

"R-r-riddikulus!" he said, pointing his shaking wand.

Crack.

Avaline's body turned into his grandmother's. Still dressed in the ridiculous hat that Neville disliked, she lay spread-eagled on her back, her eyes wide open but unseeing.

"No!" Neville moaned, tears prickling his eyes. "No . . . riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS!"

Crack. Dead Lily. Crack. Dead James. Crack. Dead Harry. Crack. Dead Alice . . .

"Here!" shouted Lupin, hurrying forward.

Crack!

Alice's body vanished. A silvery-white orb hung in the air exactly where, moments ago, a dead person had lain.

"Right," said Professor Lupin briskly. "Well done, everyone. . . . Let me see . . . five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the, five to Hermione and ten to Neville."

As the class ended, Neville avoided everyone as he ran out the fastest he had ever run. He could feel Lupin's worried, almost guilty gaze, Avaline's concerned look and the class' confusion at the back of his head, but he abandoned his books on the table and left the classroom. Scooping uphis books along with her own, Avaline followed him out.

Avaline found Neville in an deserted corridor on the third floor. She would never have found him if not for the Hogwarts ghosts. Sir Nicholas told her about coming across a sobbing student in the abandoned corridor on the third floor. Thanking the Gryffindor ghost rather hurriedly, she made her way to the corridor as quickly as possible, the sword of detention in McGonagall's class hanging over her neck.

The prospect of missing classes was appalling to her, but Neville's need was more than the desire to be a model student.

Neville was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring blankly out of the frosted window. He was no longer crying but the tear tracks lining his cheeks were proof enough. He must have heard Avaline approach, but he chose to ignore her. On her part, Avaline deposited his books near his feet and quietly sat down in front of him, not saying anything, just staring outside like her friend. Finally, Neville spoke –

"Why are you missing classes?"

"I've missed my best friend more," pat came the reply.

The silence stretched, only broken by the gentle thuds of snow hitting the castle grounds. None of them wanted a confrontation. Neville couldn't bear to look at Avaline for fear of what might be written on her face. Most eleven year olds do not fear about their friends' deaths. They do fear separation, but never fatal harm.

But Neville had always been a marked man, and since the dream on Christmas night, his fears had manifested into a tornado.

But how had the boggart known his fear when he himself couldn't decipher it? What magic allowed it to penetrate the deepest, darkest, most secret thoughts of a person and then use it for its own benefit?

Never the more vocal one, Neville decided to get it over with, so he said –

"Avaline, you have to understand, I –"

And like always, Avaline interrupted him.

"I understand Neville. I understand that you care. Being scared for your loved ones doesn't make you weak. It requires a special type of bravery to care for others selflessly."

"It's not about being brave," said Neville bitterly, "I never was brave. The sorting hat shouldn't have put me in Gryffindor. It should have send me to Hufflepuff, like I wanted."

He had never told it to anyone, not even his grandmother, but he didn't regret saying it aloud. If there was any way he could be a Hufflepuff and escape the unspoken expectations placed on him, he would.

"The hat sees what we do not. Your dreams aren't just dreams. They show you what might happen. You have to fight fear to possess courage. You're fighting against it, aren't you? You don't know how brave you are.

"And incredibly stupid too, if you think that the boggart we saw would make us hate you. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, and I'm usually not –" The corners of Neville's mouth tugged upwards. " – Everyone in class must be marvelling at the intensity of your concern for people you barely know. We may be silly, but we're not that thick."

Avaline was right. In the dormitory that night, Harry, who spent his days at Hogwarts being way too loud, cornered Neville and hugged him so hard that he felt his ribs might just break. Words failed him, but Harry's gesture showed how much Neville was appreciated.

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Next update on Friday!

Neville's first year is coming to an end. It's February already, can you believe it? Don't worry, the story isn't finished. A lot more is going to happen.

You might feel as though I'm portraying Neville as much too mature for an 11-year old. You have to understand who his family is. He has been kept hidden from the Wizarding World but not magic. He feels he has to live up to his parents' names. His grandmother expects him to do a lot. She has brought him up to be on his best behaviour and to do everything as good as others, even though she didn't exactly guide him well. She isn't a bad person. She's just lonely and she's looking for her son in her grandson through his achievements.

I think I should stop before I give up any more spoilers. Let me know what you think about this chapter. Oh, and, you were on point downtherabbithole6. Great job!