Bucolic- RBR Book 3

Bucolic || 5

Chapter 5: Of Quaffles and Quadrupeds

Out of the cupboard came me, a version of myself at the very least. The dark side. Woo. Anyway, Myself was all decked out in emo gear (god no), except the dark mark was prominently showing on her arm. She was pointing her wand, carelessly shooting out killings curses. I had to remind myself that I couldn't laugh.

"Ridikulous!" I cried. With a bang, Myself (that's her name now) turned full on drag. Big hair, big eyebrows, big hips, big eye makeup, and a stunning classic red lip. It wasn't even technically drag, but that's what the bogart turned into. I shoved Neville in front of my to face the bogart, the ran to the back to the classroom so I could laugh. I must say, that was not a look for me.

Harry stepped up to face the boggart. For a split second, it turned into a dementor, but Professor Lupin jumped in front of it. The dementor shifted into the full moon. But why would he be afraid of the moon? Maybe he's a vampire. I didn't really care, and it wasn't my business anyway. Hermione had probably already figured it out.

"Forward, Neville! Finish it off!" Lupin cried. Neville stepped forward. The boggart swirled menacingly, before becoming Snape in a dress. Neville let out a sharp jab of laughter and the boggart dissolved into dust. "Great job, everyone. Rumor and Neville, ten points for conquering the boggart first. Harry and Hermione, ten points each. A point for everyone who faced the boggart." Everyone started packing up their stuff. I giggled again.

"But Professor!" Harry called to Lupin. "I didn't face the boggart."

"Right you are, Harry," Lupin said. "But both you and Hermione answered my questions correctly. A page for homework on boggarts on my desk next week."

I stood up and went over to him, still grinning like an idiot. "Nice job with the class today. You're a natural."

"And you have a good way of tackling your fears," he countered playfully, smiling. "Now, shoo. You've got lunch."

"Aye aye, Captain," I said, saluting him and leaving. He chuckled as I left, shaking his head.

_________________________

At last, it was Saturday and it was the first Quidditch match of the season- Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. It would have been Gryffindor versus Slytherin, a much more exciting match for the spectators, but good ol Malfoy complained that he couldn't fly with his perfectly good arm. In response to that, I told him that I would make his arm really hurt if he kept milking it. I also shouted at Hermione to 'hold me back' and she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Personally, I think it was just the Slytherins being afraid of the MIGHTY LIONS but that's not my problem.

I ate a stack of seven pieces of toast that morning along with a cup of tea. Ron ate all of the food, Hermione didn't eat, she did homework, and Harry picked at a piece of bacon for forty five minutes. The whole time I was eyeing Oliver. We hadn't even spoken to one another the whole year and we barely spoke last year. It was official. I was done with Oliver Wood.

"Oliver, can I speak to you for a moment?" I asked. He looked at his watch and frowned.

"Alright, but don't make me late for the game," he stood and followed me to outside of the hall. I pulled at the sleeves of my knitted beige jumper.

"Oliver... I think we need to break up," I sighed. He looked guilty for a moment before sighing deeply.

"You're right, we never even should have gotten together in the first place," he paused for a moment. "I have not been completely truthful with you."

"What...?" I was very confused. I didn't really care if he had cheated on me, but it sounded more serious than that.

"The only reason we got together in the first place is because I was slipping you love potion. It was a dare, and when I stopped, you didn't break up with me so I thought I was in the clear," he sighed again. "I'm really sorry, Rumor." I was not.

"So you've been drugging me for three years?" He shook his head.

"Only a year and a half."

"Oh yeah, like that's any better. Please, don't talk to me ever again. Good luck with your sorry pitiful life," I hissed, storming back into the great hall. I sat back down with a sigh.

"What's up, Rumor?" Hermione asked, being the only one perceptive enough to notice that something was wrong. I put on a fake smile.

"Nothing. At least, not anymore," I glanced back at Wood. He didn't even seem upset. Harry stood up.

"See you after the match," he said.

"Good luck, mate," Ron said. Harry smiled and left.

"I guess we should get going then, too," Hermione shut her book with a dull thud. I nodded and we walked out to the pitch. Out of the corner of my eye, there it was.

A big, black dog. Aka, the grim.

I shook my head and looked back at it. It was gone. It could have just been in my imagination, but I doubt it.

"Something wrong, Rumor?" Ron put his hand on my shoulder. I shook my head and we walked up the stands. It was horrible quidditch weather. There was a deluge of rain and the wind was nearly blowing me away.

The game started. We could barely see what was going on. There was lighting and rain, and even with my perfect vision, I couldn't see a thing. The commentator was trying his best, but there was no hope. Even he couldn't see what was going on. All of a sudden, the black blobs in the sky made sense to me. The dementors had arrived.

I started to feel faint. My eyes rolled in to the back of my head just in time for me to see Harry's limo body falling out of the sky and to get one last glimpse of the big black dog walking away from the pitch.

The Grim was real.