In a world ravaged by good and evil, those toeing the line find solace in nothing. Blood runs thicker than water, but is risking your life and livelihood for a war you never wanted a part in worth it? Is becoming a monster in the eyes of some, and a...
Maeve's stomach dropped as another student successfully banished the Boggart, turning a monstrous spider into a spectacle by affixing roller-skates to its many legs. The line shortened with every breath, and Maeve found herself in a state of nervous laughter more often than not.
When it became her turn to face the Boggart, another Slytherin shoved her from behind and she shot Zabini a murderous glance before facing the boggart. It was strange, static for a moment as it probed her mind for her worst fear.
For a brief moment, she wondered if the Dark Lord would appear in the middle of the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom. She wasn't entirely sure what her worst fear was.
The Boggart manifested as a roiling pool of thick black ink, rolling across the wooden floor in a sentient manner. She felt her stomach dropping, but was unsure as to why. The dark pool was foreboding, but not much more.
Then, rearing into a large, snake-like shape, it struck towards her.
"Riddikulus!" she exclaimed, in time to get doused by a jet of water, instead.
Around her, fellow Slytherins and Gryffindors alike laughed. She blinked, and the water was no longer soaking her robes as another student was shoved before the creature.
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The room of requirement had turned into a cozy nook to spend a Saturday afternoon. There was a great big fireplace crackling and a ring of overstuffed chairs just close enough to the flames to be gently warmed. Daphne, Theo, Anthony, and Maeve sat idly in the rough circle gazing into the flames. Anthony had apparently stumbled across the room the previous year. Since there weren't many places around the castle where the four of them could sit in actual solitude due to their different houses it was the perfect place to hide out in during the winter months when it was too bitterly cold in the courtyard by the lake.
"Say what you want about Snape," Maeve mused absently picking at her fingernails, "he was an amazing potions professor. I feel like The Slug spends so much time listening to himself talk."
Theo snickered, "I miss the beating he'd give Potter whenever he spoke out of turn to Weaselbee."
"Merlin, what a prat he is," Daphne let her arm rest over her eyes gracefully, "the sound the book made against his thick skull almost made it sound hollow."
Anthony snorted, "I wonder if Potter complains about you Slytherins as much as you go on about him."
"He does," the three Slytherins agreed in harmony.
"I agree though. That mess with the love potion was ridiculous. Granger with her 's-spearmint toothpaste'," Daphne approximated Granger's articulate drawl, "who in their right mind is attracted to toothpaste?"
"What did you smell then?" Theo asked with a grin, comically inhaling deeply.
Daphne lifted her arm and squinted for a moment, "boy," she settled on decidedly, "and pine."
