Fear of the Thing Itself
It was rather unlikely to be an eventful class—though they’d never gone over boggarts before, Orion was confident in his ability to handle one. However... What would his be?
The small Slytherin filed neatly into line as Professor Moriah Grindel attempted to organize the class of fourth year Slytherins. One of their only classes they had without any of the other houses, Orion had noted at the start of the term. Which probably boded well, and made sense in order to maintain the peace between the four sectors. Imagine if the Gryffindors witnessed the deepest fears of the Slytherins, and vice verse... chaos would surely ensue.
There was minor chatter as the professor organized all the young teenagers, beginning to instruct them on how to appropriately neutralize the threat a boggart posed.
“— And so, the spell we are practicing today is known as Riddikulus, from the Latin root of ridere; to laugh.” Professor Grindel twittered; Looking far too excited for a woman of her age, Orion thought.
“Everyone got it? Good. Let’s try it out now! Norrington, you first!”
A burly girl who had previously tried out for the Beater position earlier that year stepped forwards out of the line, clearly trying to hide how nervous she really was...
“Wand at the ready!”
Jenny Norrington lifted her wand, eyes focused ever so intently on the cupboard at the end of the room. The professor flicked her own wand, and the closet unlatched, creaking open to reveal the horrors within.
A lone wolf.
A few people snickered, which was quite expected in a situation regarding their peers’ fears, but it was sitting rather placidly, to be fair.
Until it stepped out, furred snout scrunching to reveal two rows of glittering, bloodstained canines as it snarled its malicious intent.
Swallowing her quite evident fear of the approaching creature, Jenny waved her wand and stammered out, “R-Riddikulus!”
The wolf yelped suddenly, not looking nearly so vicious as it clawed desperately at a pair of dress-up fairy wings, a pink plaid skirt, and a disgustingly frilly bow that had appeared over its matted fur.
Quiet laughs erupted from the crowd of Slytherins, and Professor Grindel clapped her hands together excitedly.
“Oh, well done!! Excellent job, Ms Norrington. Next!”
As the next student stepped forwards, and the boggart revealed its next form to be a tall, stony-faced woman with serpents for hair, Orion allowed his mind to wander once more.
What would his boggart be..?
Surely that’s what everyone else was wondering, too? It was unlikely that they'd all know what their deepest, darkest fears were...
Finally it was the student before him, and Orion watched the boy step forwards, looking quite confident as he faced the boggart; Its current form being a pair of rattlesnakes tied in a perfect bow.
Suddenly, the boggart disappeared, the cupboard doors shutting with a harsh snap. A few students looked quite confused until the cabinet doors began to open once more, a dark, dense fog billowing from inside.
Must be afraid of the dark...
The boy, Fletcher Bowen, brandished his wand at the smoky substance and cried, “Riddikulus!”
With the sound of a toilet flushing, much to the class’ amusement, the dark fog swirled back into the closet, which once again slammed sharply shut.
Then Orion’s turn.
The dark-haired boy stepped forwards, fully confident he could face whatever the boggart had to offer. Surely nothing it could show him would scare him too bad...
Expecting a sphinx or some other test of his prized intelligence, he raised his wand in preparation for what the cabinet may hold as the doors creaked open once more to reveal...
A man, dressed elegantly in blue with a pretty young woman on his right arm, emerged from the closet, his gaze haughty as it raked over the class before finally settling on Orion. An expression of utmost contempt soured his handsome features, and the boggart finally spoke;
“Orion Blackfield... You are no son of mine.”
Orion’s jaw tensed, fixed on the spot as the man’s gaze bored into his own, eyes the same cold gray as his son’s.
The woman on Atlas Blackfield’s arm sneered ever so slightly; her own delicate face turned ugly by the expression.
Ori hated this. He hated this so much. Hated the way his entire body had stiffened at the mere sight of his own father. Hated that absolute fear writhing and twisting in the pit of his stomach. And hated the way quiet murmurs surely spread through the crowd behind him (though really, no one had spoken at all).
Afraid of his own father? How pathetic...
He raised his wand, his voice snapping the silence like a whip to his own ears as he brought it down to point at the boggart.
“Riddikulus.“
As though melting, the two figures dissolved into water, splashing to the floor. A few of the Slytherins stepped back, evidently not wanting to get boggart-water on their shoes, but Orion just stood there, remaining still for several long moments before turning to head to the back of the line, meeting anyone’s gaze who dared to stare.
What was so hilarious about water? Orion’s father was deathly afraid of drowning.
No one was laughing. But it was funny to him.