𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗨𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗽𝘁.𝟮

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Baz's POV

Goblins. Reeking of bitter-honey. I can smell them.

           And they're all around us.

          Penny shakes in my hold as I release her, spotting the creatures nearby. I can hear the footsteps thundering. At least two dozen of them. No. . . There are Boggarts too. Materializing out of thin air. My eyes scan the Woods around us without my head turning an inch. And between the goblin's suffocating, disgusting sweet and the Boggarts sour stench is something smoky. Something so strangely familiar but I don't have the time to figure out what it is because 21 green devils dart towards me and the Boggarts morph into Snow.



Penelope's POV

Green-skinned, slithery, red-lipped goblins lurch forward from all sides, and Baz's wand is out in a flash. So are his fangs. And I'm holding my own ring up, as the foggy Boggarts transform into Baz's worst nightmares. My throat goes dry—scratchy.

           Simon. . . They're all Simon, playing in different scenarios. And they look so realistic it's terrifying.

"Off with your head!" Baz casts, his ivory wand pointing at a bleeding, dying Simon. His jaw trembles as the Boggart is beheaded—a Simon resembling Boggart. And a tear escapes Baz's eye.

           For a second I can't think past it.

           Then another Goblin pounces towards him, but he turns around 180 degrees, faster than I can blink, sending one goblin flying with a kick, and piercing the other green creature's neck with his wand, all in one swift move. Baz snarls—a startling sound. Suddenly he's launching at the rest of the goblin army at breakneck speed.
And I face the Boggarts.

"Hit the floor!" Many of the Simons fall on their faces, and burst into smoke.

"Head over heels! Bend over backwards!" Basil's practically singing spells, and fighting the goblins into the ground. "Guts for garters!" He yells, cracking slithery necks at the same time—breaking them in half. Beheading them with his hands. Within seconds cold corpses fall. And Baz moves like living lightning. It's a little admirable. Enough to distract me a little.

"Into thin air!" I cast, and the decapitated bodies disappear. And one Simon remains. Boggart? Or not?




Baz's POV

Even though I've got goblins surrounding me, I watch the Boggarts; I can't help it. Every Simon bleeding before me, with bite marks on his neck. Every Simon walking away from me. Every Simon crying.

           Thank Merlin Penny magicks them into nothingness (with just a flick of her hand too.)

            It's impossible to look away, still. And one of the boys—Boggarts—with caramel skin and teary blue eyes mumbles, "Bazzy, I thought you loved me. . ."

          The muffled voice a whisper on the harsh wind. No one except me can hear it. It's clear I've hurt him, that I've done something wrong, wounded him. And even though he isn't real, and his words aren't true, I want to turn around. I want to run to him and hold him in my arms. Cradle him, tell him. . .

           "I do, Simon, I do." Just saying his name now is destruction. It's an admission of guilt, for hopelessly loving what you can't have.

            The goblin before me pauses for a second, wondering who I'm talking to. And in that split second I grab him by the hair, throwing him down, and swing my knee up into his stomach like he's a football. A sharp crack resonates as my knee nearly pierces through his stomach and breaks his back, a blood-curdling howl leaving the creatures cherry-red lips. I can hear the crunch and crush of every bone. That was the last of them.

           Then something—someone—grabs me from behind, covering my eyes with one calloused hand and my mouth with another. Hands scarred enough to wield a sword. The sword. I recognize them instantly, those hands have travelled my entire body. Punched me senselessy, pulled me in, and pushed me away. They've scratched, and caressed, and loved. And hated. They feel so real I almost doubt it's a Boggart. Then I can smell it—my only proof. Smoke. That's the smoky magick. Can a Boggart emanate Simon's scent?

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