The Only Thing We Have to Fear PV

Today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been surrounded by a mixed sense of excitement and unease, rippling through the students, surging at times. There were those students that looked confident, even seemed to be looking forward to facing their worst fear. Then there were the ones that looked ready to throw up any second, and Dee still wasn't quite sure on which side of the line she stood.

Did she know what her Boggart would turn into? No. She hadn't known a year ago, and she still didn't know. Funnily, she had almost faced one already, not only once, but twice. Once on the offer of a very strange (very sketchy) Slytherin upperclassman, who had approached her, apparently for no reason other than to insult her. She still wasn't sure if that hadn't been a test, a lie, because how would this random kid just have a Boggart in his back pocket? She had turned him down either way, despite the intrigue, simply because she hadn't liked the way he'd tried to get her to agree. Spite, pure and simple.

The second time had been part of an official school event, a series of trials that were supposed to demonstrate bravery or unity or some nonsense like that among the student body, but had done exactly the opposite. Dee had walked out on that one, too, to make a point. She hadn't regretted it, despite the nagging curiosity in her stomach, making her wonder what would have waited for her in that tent.

Well, today she had the opportunity to find out. Question was - did she really want to?

There was no denying it, she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched the Boggarts of the other students. Despite the fact that most kids seemed to handle the terrors they had experienced over the last few years remarkably well, they still reflected in their fears, and it was enough to make a stomach turn. Two years ago, she would have been among the confident, boastful students, strutting forward, expecting to shrug off her worst fear like it was nothing. But there was no denying it: The past years had changed her.

She considered trying to muster a smile when Peri turned to look at her, but decided she didn't want to fake it, so she returned his gaze grimly. She could spy Aly's head of curls just ahead of him, too. At least Pericles' presence made her feel more confident. Spending a year next to each other on the duelling stage would do that, and he had also been there when she'd snapped out of her daze after the forest disaster last summer. There was something comforting to having him near. "We got this," she mouthed at him, then opted for a wink, and just the hint of a smile, despite it all.

@Pericles Dralt

Hex Colour:#38b6ff
Relevant Abilities: Charmer, Paragon of Health
|| Interacting with @Pericles Dralt, @Santario Martin, & @Dealla Prince ||

For a (hopeful) future healer like Aly, Defence Against the Dark Arts was a class in which she would need to excel.

That wasn't to say she didn't do well in it - the Ravenclaw was fine at the class, getting Outstanding grades as she was expected to do, etc. - but, for Aly, it was almost harder to focus in a class that was neither a favourite nor a least favourite. Her most beloved classes were too fun to not like, and at least in her disliked lessons, Aly concentrated out of necessity. (Potions, for example.) Rather, Defence Against the Dark Arts was solidly middle-of-the-road for her in terms of enjoyment, and that made it difficult to pay attention.

Practical days in DADA, however, were a bit easier to at least focus on. Perhaps they were more difficult than theory days, but now Aly wasn't sitting in a seat, tapping her foot in a terrible approximation of the beat of one of her father's favourite oldie Weird Sisters songs and trying not to doodle different species of flowers in the margins of her class notes. Now she was on her feet, still tapping her foot in a terrible approximation of the beat of one of her father's favourite oldie Weird Sisters songs, but at least with no nearby notes on which she could doodle. Instead, she was in a line, just in front of two of her friends - Pericles and Dee - and just behind a Slytherin girl in their year, waiting for her turn with the Boggart.

Aly shivered at the thought. Boggarts. The Ravenclaw was not a Gryffindor for a reason - she became frightened so very easily, and she couldn't even begin to imagine what her worst fear could be. The very idea that she would be facing her deepest, darkest, most horrifying fear in just a matter of minutes sent chills down her spine and thoughts racing through her mind as the ever-curious eagle tried her best to puzzle out what scared her the absolute most. Banshees? Mummies? Werewolves? A T on an assignment? Though nobody could hear her internal monologue, Aly shook her head, correcting herself: Mother after she finds out about a T on an assignment?

Pericles was leaning past her now, a hand on Aly's shoulder, to whisper comforting words to the Slytherin in front of her just as it became the other girl's turn to face the classroom's resident-for-the-day Boggart. The strangely white-suited man singing something about hounds - really, what had that been? - began to shift and change into something different for the Slytherin, all while Aly fought to remember the other girl's name. The whispered "San" from Pericles certainly helped - Sandra? Sandy? Santana? - but Aly kept having a sneaking feeling that it was something more unique than those.

Two and a half years in classes with this girl and I can't even remember her name, Aly chided herself. Pay more attention, Aly...

Still, she whispered forwards, "Yes, you can do this!", simply neglecting to include a name. Everyone could always use a bit of encouragement when going up against their worst fears. She glanced back at Pericles and Dee, giving them both nervous smiles and trying to not think of the fact that once the Slytherin girl had completed her turn, it would be Aly's head on the chopping block next...

Trepidation nested in Pericles' chest. It was natural to wish his friends wouldn't ever face their worst fears, but then again, he tried to focus on the fact that they would- supposedly- be made all the stronger for it. Horrible things happened to Hogwarts students on the norm. Pretending otherwise would get them nowhere, so the best they could do was prepare themselves for fear. Most imperative of all was the fact that they had the opportunity to support one another through it. He and Aly had urged on Santario, her gratitude answered with a wink of one silver eye, though there was some residual anxiety for himself. He couldn't fathom what his fear would be. When he turned to meet Dee's gaze, her somber expression spoke to him; Peri was adept at hiding his feeligns, while she was the more straightforward one between them, and it was clear to see that she was thinking along the same lines as him. He found some comfort in this, and more at the encouragement she mouthed, answering with renewed assurance. His head bobbed once, nerves ebbing as he managed a weak but warm smile. No physical harm would come to them. The professor would see to that. Psychological harm, however, had become more frightening to the young duellist over the last year....

The boggart became a dense mist. Silence thick as that fog settled over the class, and Pericles held his breath, standing stock still behind Aly. Was something going to emerge from it? Or was it the fog itself? As he stared into its abyssal depths, a forlorn feeling overcame him. It was loneliness, being forsaken, an empty nothing stretched out before Santario. He felt his heart sink and the hairs raised on the back of his neck. Yet a different sort of chill raced up his arms at those whispered words, and when Santario successfully turned her boggart into a pretty rain of confetti, he huffed an airy laugh of relief. When she passed by him to the line's side, he flashed a pearly grin and enthused quietly "You aren't," alone that is, "you know. Brilliantly done San." His fellow bird's turn. Pericles shuffled forward a step to murmur over her shoulder, trying to radiate encouragement as he muttered "Alright there, Aly. Show them how it's done in Ravenclaw."

@Santario Martin | @Aly Salinger | @Dealla Prince

The whisper of encouragement being passed back and forth the line of waiting students was comforting in its own right; while they had to step forward to face the boggart alone, they had the support of their peers behind them. It wasn't something that had come naturally, that unity, it was what the school had forged them to be, between dangerous sports and much more sinister attacks.

Dee leaned to the side to get a better look when Santario confronted her fears, staring curiously as the boggart turned into fog opaque as milk and deathly quiet. The initial urge to reach out and touch it faded as fast as it came when the fog settled around the Slytherin and the unease spread to Dealla, even five steps behind. Feeling a shiver climbing up her spine, she straightened up, her curiosity gone, and pulled her robes tighter around herself, feeling suddenly cold. She couldn't name it, Santario's fear, couldn't pin it down. It wasn't her own fear, although if she sat down to think about it too much, if she had experienced more loss in her life, it might have been. Even then, she was glad that she wasn't the one in the fog, was happy to hide behind Peri's slim frame to avoid looking at the fog too closely.

The relief was tangible when Santario broke the silence, banishing it along with the fog, and Dee breathed a quiet sigh, then looked up and grinned at the rain of confetti. Heart-shaped, cute. Not what she would have expected from San, given how lost they both had been at the Valentine's event a year ago, but she supposed they had both changed since then. "Great job!" she cheered, louder than Pericles' quiet words of assurance, and held out a fist for Santario to bump as she walked by, her smile bright and sincere. It was also heartening to see her peer deal with her fear so capably, lightened the trepidation in Dealla's stomach.

After San had passed, Dee's attention went back to the front of the line, where Aly was next up to face the creature. Her encouragement was more audible here, too: A shouted "Go Aly! Show that boggart who's boss!" delivered with a smile in her voice before the tense silence could settle over them again. "Make Booted Eagle proud!"

@Santario Martin | @Pericles Dralt | @Aly Salinger

Hex Colour:#38b6ff
Relevant Abilities: Charmer, Paragon of Health
|| Interacting with @Pericles Dralt, @Santario Martin, & @Dealla Prince ||
|| Mentioning @Aaron Jones ||

The Slytherin girl in front of Aly stepped up to face her boggart, and Aly held her breath to see what it would turn into; instead of something physically scary, like an Inferius or a vampire or an angry parent, however, there suddenly appeared a thick fog throughout the classroom, a heavy cloud spreading over them. Quiet, unsettling - Aly did not find the fog itself terrifying, but rather, the anticipation of why the fog was there. Did it represent something else? Would something jump out at the Slytherin girl? Or had something very bad once happened to her on a very foggy night?

Before Aly could think it over too much, though, the Slytherin girl cast the Boggart-Banishing Spell with a confident shout, and the fog burst from existence into a lovely shower of heart-shaped confetti. A single piece landed on Aly's forearm, causing shivers to rack up and down her limbs. No, wait, that was because the Slytherin - what was her name?? - was moving out of the way, leaving Aly up next in line to take a crack at the boggart.

As she took a trembling step forward, hearing quiet encouragement from Peri and not-so-quiet encouragement from Dee behind him, Aly wondered for a brief moment if perhaps the fear of what her boggart would turn into could be her boggart itself. But how would a boggart represent... well, itself?

She needed to wonder no longer, because as her feet shuffled forward once more and she gripped her aspen-wood wand in her shaking hand, the boggart decided that she was close enough and subsequently exploded into a tall, lithe human form. Someone familiar, with dark hair and eyes and a pinched face. Someone Aly had expected to see, albeit... not like this.

The form of Hesper Livingston-Salinger stared back at her, lips curled in what could only have been disgust, dark eyes seething with nothing but annoyance. Her overbearing, strict (albeit beloved... to a point) mother, disappointed in her - it had been expected, if not dreaded, at least. But what Aly had not thought she would see was what the boggart version of Hesper clutched in her hand. Instead of a school assignment marked with a Troll grading - something Aly herself probably would have characterised as her worst fear, if she'd had to guess - the boggart-Hesper was pinching a single rose between two of her long, slender fingers.

Now, Aly had been studying the language of flowers for quite some time. She knew that just as different species of flowers meant different things, so too did the color of the blossom carry a certain weight of importance in the symbolism. A red rose, for instance, meant a romantic love, whereas a yellow one meant friendship; white roses symbolised innocence and purity, but a pink one would represent a crush or sweetness. All of these would have been perfectly fine roses to gift to someone, but Hesper was holding a different kind of rose. A black rose.

Which meant, in no uncertain terms, You are dead to me.

The boggart version of Hesper didn't even have to say anything. It just extended the rose, dark as its hair and eyes and soul (if it had one), towards Aly. And the Ravenclaw felt her heart, beating wildly in her chest, shatter into millions of tiny little pieces, as small as the heart-shaped confetti that had vanished from her wrist. All she ever did in life, or at least all she ever had done before this year, had been to please Hesper's Astronomy Tower-high standards. She'd joined the Quidditch team, struggled and studied and swotted for Outstandings in every class, stayed away from mischief... well, until this year, but it wasn't like Hesper knew that. As Hesper's only child, Aly knew that she was the one and only chance her mother had at being a successful mother. So to see her mother reject her like this...

Aly grasped her wand even tighter, pointing it at the boggart. She tried to remind herself that it wasn't real - Mother's proud of me, I know it, even if she doesn't say so - and managed to stammer out the requisite spell. "R-riddikulus."

Crack!

The curly-haired Ravenclaw girl hadn't even realised that she'd squeezed her eyes shut before casting her spell; she forced them open to see another human figure standing in front of her. Shorter than Hesper, but still taller than Aly. Thin. Pale. Dark hair, blue eyes. The view of Dealla Prince's face confused her for a moment - wasn't Dee, a good friend of Aly's, standing behind her in line? A quick glance behind her confirmed Aly's remembrance, and Aly turned back to the boggart version of Dee with a pleasant wave of relief washing over her. I did it, then! The opposite of Mother being disappointed would be Dee being proud, I... suppose? Though I would've thought it to be Father being prou-

Her thoughts cut off mid-sentence as the boggart version of Dee raised a hand, extending a plant to her, pinched between its forefinger and thumb, and Aly quickly realised that she hadn't vanquished the boggart at all. No black rose this time did the boggart offer, but instead a bloom that at first appeared to be a single flower, only for Aly to quickly recognise it as a blossom made out of lots of tiny versions of itself, with green buds in the middle.

A candytuft. Indifference.

Wincing - Aly had grown to consider Dee a good friend of hers, and to see herself rejected, not even in a hateful way but just in a distant, detached manner, hurt almost as much as the knowledge that Dee herself was standing just behind her and watching all of this go down - Aly tried again to raise her wand against the boggart. This would be embarrassing to talk about later. The nerves overcame her, coupled with a red flush of humiliation rising to her cheeks, and once again the Ravenclaw stumbled on her spell delivery: "Ri-riddikulus!"

Crack!

The boggart shifted a third time, into a third human form. Aly had known, from the moment the stammered incantation had left her mouth, that she had not succeeded in her cast; what she had not known was who the boggart would turn into next. Which of her fears of being abandoned, cast out, spurned, hated would this horrible, horrible creature choose to prey on now? Ideas sifted violently through her head - Pericles with a stalk of aconite for hatred, her father Benjamin with a buttercup for childishness, any member of her Quidditch team sporting an orange lily for contempt and disdain - but when the boggart finally settled upon messy dark hair covered with an off-center beanie, dark brown eyes, and a strange lack of a calming smile upon a very familiar (and usually calming) face, a shock ran through Aly's system, as though she had been doused with a very large bucket of very cold water.

The form of Aaron Jones stared back at her, his dark eyes terrifyingly soulless for someone who had such soul when he was really there. Aaron had become such a good friend to Aly recently, even if he was sometimes the one getting her into the aforementioned mischief. For a moment, Aly's mind resisted looking down at the boggart-Aaron's hand to see what flower resided there - No, I don't want to see it, don't make me look at it - but quickly enough, her heart won out, and her green gaze dropped to the boggart's hand just in time to watch it twirl the yellow carnation between its fingertips with emotionless grace.

Rejection.

Aly's heart seized in her chest.

Before she had time to contemplate why, exactly, the Aaron version of the boggart would be offering her a flower symbolising disappointment and abandonment, a rush of anger surged over her. Aly Salinger was not the type to get angry, really, but she'd had just about enough with this boggart putting her emotions and fears on blast for all the world to see. She'd have to deal with all the repercussions of this later, and Aly was not the kind of girl to enjoy that kind of conflict.

Mother is proud of me. Dee is my friend. Aaron has never rejected me.

Fueled by her fury, Aly pointed her wand once again at the boggart.

Forget all that - they don't even know the language of flowers, anyway!

"Riddikulus!" she cried out, furiously.

Crack!

Aly watched as, before her eyes, the boggart version of Aaron boomed into a vaguely person-shaped storm of flowers of all different shapes, sizes, and species. From alluring red amaryllises (pride) to charming yellow coreopsis (cheeriness) to the gorgeous golden lilies that symbolised happiness, blossoms with positive meanings galore - love, light, liveliness - floated down to a beautiful floral pile on the floor of the classroom. And finally, for the first time in minutes, Aly heaved a hefty sigh of relief, letting out the breath she'd been holding for too long. Her head spun, maybe from dizziness and maybe from exhaustion, as she stepped aside to let Pericles take his turn.

She'd had quite enough with this bloody boggart for one day.

(!! light body horror !!)

(Skipping with permission)

Boggarts weaponize one if the lowest forms of manipulation: impersonation.
As it transferred between family and friends, presenting one foul flower to the next, Pericles watched with an amalgamation of pity and astonishment. He regretted that Aly had to undergo this, but the monster was undeniably fascinating. His own grasp of flower language was broad. Though he didn't recognize the intent of every flower they saw, he gathered the message, and felt a vicarious ache in his chest. Yet the witch would overcome her worries to vanquish them. The boggart, battered by multiple participants, retreated to recover. That unintimidating heap of picturesque flowers drifted away as though blown by a weak breeze, back into the cupboard from whence it came. Pericles was beaming brightly, reaching to place a soft congratulatory pat on Aly's shoulder, affirming "Well cast, Aly," as she passed by. Seeing she and San face their fears emboldened him. Curiosity took the place of trepidation: would his fear be as nuanced as theirs? Their symbolism was dreadful, yet almost poetic in presentation. Beautiful, even. Pericles began to believe his would be, too, but he would be wrong. As he stepped away from his peers to stand at the ready, the cupboard gave a gentle rock. The Ravenclaw held his aspen wand with an unemotive stare. Another thud, startlingly loud this time, enough to incite a fluttering blink. Then the doors burst open, and from what seemed an endless black beyond them, there glowed a grayish eye. Heavy silence settled over the room.

What lumbered forth from the gloom was not a person, but a grotesque beast bearing a resemblance to one. Familiar. Ghostly white hair, spectral silver eyes, frightfully pale flesh. Yet the skin was stretched by elongated limbs, drawn taut to the musculature, stretched til it split in places. His face was creased monstrously, ears pointed and nose broadened. The anatomy appeared strained between that of man and bat. So long were its arms that it staggered out on all fours. Its fingers, long as wands, dragged yellow claws across the floorboard. When it breathed, the air rattled in its heaving barrel-like chest, while glistening ropes of saliva oozed from jagged fangs. Small sounds- namely the shuffle of retreating shoes- rippled across the audience. It was incapable of advancing towards them however, halting on the opposite side of a sunlight beam shining through the classroom window. There it loomed, drawing rumbling breaths, until its glare found the source of fear from which it could feed. The boy had hidden this terror. He had buried it away, deep down in the dark recesses of his psyche, where it had festered, spoiled, fermented into a most palpable vintage of horror. "Pericles."

Reducio

Art commissioned from Ackelb

Oculocutaneous albinism rendered Pericles pale, yet in those moments after his boggart took shape, he shifted through a series of shades: white from fear, green from nausea, scarlet with shame. He gasped when the thing uttered his name, partially from dread, partially realizing he had held his breath. Immediately, duellist's instinct urged his wand up in an attempt to defend himself. No incantation was uttered. The abomination moved heavily on the other side of the sun beam, rumbling, battish nostrils shuddering with an indignant snort. "You would point your wand at me?" Drool flecked from its jaws with the force of a voice both recognizable and impossible. "Your own father?" This monster might not be real, but the boy's terror was. He could feel his heart fracturing. Pericles had compartmentalized many wounds, yet here they were all at once: resentment for his father's vampirism, the secret desire to cure it (with the dread that he would bring harm through experimentation), the certainty he would ruin his parent's life. Or, that he already had.

When first Pericles had come to Hogwarts, he had spent a year shedding an old tic. If deeply upset or ashamed, his chin would drop to his chest. Here he visibly fought it, blinking rapidly as first his wide eyes averted, then his head bowed low. He couldn't bear to look at it. The boggart could taste the dismay rolling off of its target in waves, wicked thing that it was, capable of seeing through the many walls this mild-mannered heir had painstakingly erected. Neither his family nor friends were meant to know of this, but the boggart did. It delighted in it. "You cannot so much as meet my eye, let alone my legacy. Through arrogance and avarice you squander your birthright." Hopelessness was filling his lungs. He couldn't think, couldn't cast, couldn't breathe. "Childish hubris. Ceaseless meddling." His wand arm was drifting down. He could feel his hands shaking, betraying him. "Unworthy of my name. Unworthy of the magic coursing through you." It was true. He wouldn't be the warlock his father had been. He couldn't cure his vampirism- trying to do so would only make it worse, and he was a fool to think he'd crack the code. He couldn't possibly sustain the Dralt's Pureblood reputation either. Pericles winced and withdrew at the sound of grotesque jaws gnashing, snapping the air, derisive words sinking through his skin.
"Unworthy of the very blood flowing through those veins."

It was becoming abundantly apparent that Pericles, supposed prodigy and prefect, was simply not up to this task. He was trembling all over, wand clenched uselessly at his side, chin to chest. The encounter was promptly ended by intervention, providing an opportunity for him to snap from his frozen state and flee. If any attempts at encouragement were offered, they would fall on deaf ears. His were ringing as he blinked tears from his eyes. In spite of all they had faced, or perhaps because of it- this being the last straw- seeing his worst fear personified was too much for the third-year to endure. Unseeing, unhearing, Pericles barged for the back of the line only to keep going, exiting the class in a dazed search for someplace silent.

@Santario Martin | @Aly Salinger | @Dealla Prince

Exiting Scene

Dee was bouncing on her feet, leaning to the side slightly to look past Pericles as Aly stepped forward. It was hard to judge Aly's mood just watching her back and her bouncing curls, but Dee had all the confidence that Aly would handle this just fine. It was hard to imagine anything else, Aly was one of the most positive people Dee knew.

Curiously, she watched as the Boggart turned into a dark-haired woman. It was no one Dee knew, but Aly presumably did. A family member? Mother? Old teacher? Who knew.

The classroom had settled back into a tense silence, all eyes pinned on Aly and the Boggart, only the occasional whisper audible. The Boggart was not making any noise, either, instead producing a flower that she held out to Dee's friend.

Frowning, Dee leaned forward just a little farther, putting a hand on Pericles' shoulder for balance. A black flower. A rose? Dee had no idea what was so scary about that. Was the woman dead, maybe? Or rather, was finding out that the woman was dead Aly's fear?

Either way, Aly's voice had none of its usual cheer when she spoke the spell, and Dee bit her lip. She didn't understand this Boggart, not like Santario's whose aura of loneliness had been enough to shake Dee as well.

She was getting to ready to cheer for her friend successfully defeating the Boggart, but instead paused, confused, as the Boggart settled into a new form - herself. What? Several heads in the classroom turned towards her, among them Aly's own. Dee met her gaze, eyes quizzical, but whatever it was, Aly seemed a little less tense when she turned forward - right until Dee's doppelganger reached out, holding another flower. A pretty flower, not black this time. Dee didn't recognise it. Before she had the chance to figure out what was going on, Aly once again spoke the incantation - voice wavering - and the Boggart turned into yet another figure. Aaron Jones this time, a friend of Dee's. He, too, was holding a flower, a yellow one. Fit him, Aaron was a Hufflepuff. Didn't explain anything, though. Aly's Boggart was confusing.

Whatever it meant, it seemed to snap Aly out of her frozen uncertainty. Her voice was strong, determined for her next attempt, and this time, the spell obviously worked, Aaron's frame bursting into a shower of flowers.

Dee's body auto-piloted into clapping for her friend, while her mind was still trying to figure out why she had been a part of her friend's worst fear. That was... not a good thing for a friendship, was it? She'd have to ask her about it later.

But not now, because now it was Pericles' turn, and Dee gave him an encouraging pat on the back as he stepped forward. Peri was so steady, so reliable. Surely he would manage fine.

She was at the front of the line now, only Pericles between the Boggart and herself, and her heart sped up, a mixture of anticipation and unease. Almost her turn... what would her Boggart look like? She couldn't guess.

Distracted by the question, Dee snapped back to attention when something burst out of the closet. Nothing abstract like Santario's fog, nothing human, either, it was a... something. Humanoid, but distorted. Dee recoiled at the sight, shocked, her hand jerking towards her own wand, instincts calling her to fight. And then it started talking, and Pericles drew a choking breath in front of her, but it was not enough to get her gaze away from the creature, goosebumps running up her arms.

She was focused enough that she almost missed the content of the words, their meaning only filtering through belatedly. His... father? Cruel words followed, derisive, dismissive, and they felt like slaps, cold and sharp. Whatever that creature was, if it was truly Peri's father, hearing that must be... She didn't want to imagine.

Bound by horrified fascination, she almost didn't notice Pericles turning, fleeing the room as if... well, as if chased by his worst fears. She turned with a few seconds of delay, looking after her friend, watching has he burst through the classroom doors.

Which... left her at the front of the queue. Feeling frozen, terrified, she slowly turned back around. The Boggart was changing again, and Dee took a step back instead of forward, almost bumping into the student behind her, shaken. She caught a glimpse of a tall human shape, dark curls, dark eyes, and hell no, she wasn't ready to do this, not after what she'd just seen.

"I'll go check on Peri," she stammered out, then Dealla, too, turned and started running, following Pericles out of the classroom. She would look for her friend, she would, but for now, she just had to get away.

@Aly Salinger | @Pericles Dralt | @Santario Martin

Exiting scene!

Hex Colour:#38b6ff
Relevant Abilities: Charmer, Paragon of Health
|| Interacting with @Pericles Dralt, @Santario Martin, & @Dealla Prince ||
|| Mentioning @Orion Lécuyer ||

Peri's boggart was... well, to put it simply, a lot scarier than Aly's own. Aly felt her hackles rise, hair on the back of her neck standing straight up, at the mere sight of her pile of flowers whirlwinding into some festering, drooling, malicious thing with talons sharp as knives and webbed joints that made it look like it had crawled out of some hole somewhere, desperate to attack her friend. If she had been even an ounce braver, or maybe a few hundred ounces, she would have jumped forward to defend him from the beast; but logic, and fear, won out. That's Peri's boggart, not mine. He has to face it on his own. He can face it on his own.

Still, her white-haired friend was pale as death as the creature stumbled forward and then, impossibly, because Aly didn't think it could have gotten any worse, began to speak. First it growled Pericles' name, then began to spit the most vile, heart-wrenching, disappointed insults that Aly had ever heard, rivaling even her mother's. Her heart seized in her chest, aching for Peri; no one deserved to hear that kind of thing, least of all from a relative. Though, in fairness, she was only assuming this beast was supposed to be related to Peri; they had the same ghost-white hair, after all. Sure enough, soon the creature growled something about being Peri's father. Well, if nothing else good came of this encounter with their boggarts, at least the two Ravenclaws would be able to bond over terrible parenting after this.

Aly knew one thing and one thing only - in the face of such vitriol, her friend needed the support of his friends. That was what had gotten Aly over her boggart, and surely it could get Peri over his, too.

"You've got this, Peri!" she whispered in a courageous hiss, but it seemed that if Pericles had even heard her, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he was shaking - shivering like a leaf in a strong autumn wind - and just like that leaf, he blew away, turning and sprinting past Aly at the back of the line, all the way out of the classroom. No incantation spoken. No wand waved. Just the door, slamming shut behind him.

Normally Aly would have rushed after him to see if he was all right, but Dee was up next, and, shaken, Aly turned to offer her encouragement to her other friend. She could go after Peri once class had ended, because Aly Salinger was not the type to skip class, especially not with thoughts of what her mother would think running rampant through her curly head. But Dee was turning too before her boggart had even really formed into something that Aly could recognise other than something vaguely human, sprinting too, and déjà vu was all Aly could think as her roommate fled through the same door as Peri, stammering something about going to check on him.

Well. If you had told her at the beginning of this class that Aly would be the only one of the three Ravenclaws in line to beat her fear, well... she wouldn't have believed you. But the professor was dismissing class now, whether because of the fact that two of his students had just sprinted out or because everyone had faced their boggart (everyone remaining, anyway) or because time was wrapping up anyway, Aly couldn't tell. Wordlessly, she packed up her books and headed out of the classroom through the same door through which Peri and Dee had found their solace, though at a significantly slower pace. Normally the third-year would have waited for friends and walked with them to Ravenclaw Tower at the end of classes for the day, but... well... all of her friends had already left, frightened away by whatever horrors lurked in their past. Hopefully, she could find them later and give them the biggest hugs of their lives.

Aly strode through the door, alone, her head full of other people's fears. But, for once, she did not think about her own.