Louis Weasley wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Hogwarts. Of course, he’d always known he’d be sent there; there was an inevitability about it due to his name - despite his mum’s occasional murmurings about her school in France.
His first year, nothing exciting happened. He was at school, it was true, but then coming from a pure-blood family and remembering the exact moment when he’d first used magic by turning his sister’s hair to orange spikes, the fact that Louis attended Hogwarts wasn’t remarkable. Even, his magic coming through at the early age of three wasn’t something to be celebrated, especially when his younger-by- two-weeks cousin’s had come through a few days before.
So he attended Hogwarts with a small amount of trepidation, and a little excitement. But the thing was, when your two older sisters and two older cousins had been there before you, and spent their holidays competing with each other over who was the most daring, (apart from Molly who always kept quiet) Louis really wasn’t sure what was left for him to talk about or explore.
(It wasn’t as if he’d particularly expected Lord Voldemort to live again and inhabit his Defence Against the Dark Art’s teacher by hiding in his turban, but having heard all the stories, Louis had hoped for more than a few mundane magical accidents.)
His second year was when he became truly aware of the Potter legacy, and how he, as a Weasley, couldn’t match up. His younger-by-two-weeks cousin, James Potter, had now joined him at Hogwarts, and although they were close - despite that divisive school year - Louis realised that all the attention was on his dark-haired cousin and he went unnoticed. He tried out for the Quidditch team, but was unsurprised not to get a chance. With Dominique securing her place as Beater for the second year in a row, nothing short of him spiking her pumpkin juice with Bobutuber pus would get him a game. Besides, James couldn’t tryout yet, and Louis knew he’d have more fun watching with his cousin than he had with his classmates who always bugged him about his family. Is it true your uncle once swallowed the Snitch?
(In that second year, he and James tried to find the Chamber, Louis striking up a sympathetic acquaintance with Moaning Myrtle by letting her stroke his hair. But despite both of them hissing at the taps, it never opened.)
His third year was when it all began to change - thanks to a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, the week before Halloween.
Professor Goldstein was a theorist. Fiercely intelligent, he described everything in minute detail and let nothing slip. He not only welcomed questions, he demanded them, encouraging loud debates. But Louis, conscious that his voice was in the process of breaking, let his classmates voice their opinions whilst he kept quiet. That day, trooping into the class, Louis claimed a seat on the end of the middle bench - as he always did - and slung his bag on top of the desk. He often caught the professor staring at him, perhaps wondering who he had in front of him and how a Weasley could be so meek.
–In my third year,†Professor Goldstein began, not waiting for them to settle. –We were taught by a man called Professor Lupin.†He paused, his eyes flicking again to Louis, who alone of his class was not fidgeting. –Some of you may have heard of him. He was certainly a teacher who left an impression, and today’s lesson may help you to understand why.†He paused, a faint glimmer of a smile on his face. –Books away and wands out.â€
It was such an unusual instruction from the professor, who set enormous store by learning the theory before the practical that several of Louis’ classmates carried on unpacking their books. It was only when Professor Goldstein repeated the instruction that they stopped, casting excited looks amongst themselves.
–Today, you’re going to learn about Boggarts and the best way to do that is ‘practically’. So, follow me, Gryffindors.â€
He led them to the back of the classroom, through a narrow door, and then up a winding staircase. There was one portrait hung on the wall, the rest were sparse landscapes, and Louis eyed the painting of the hag dubiously. She looked as if she was asleep, but there was something odd about her lips, which appeared to be muttering as they all traipsed past her.
–That’ll be what your Boggart turns into, blondie,†muttered Douglas Finch. Louis scowled. He didn’t like Finch. From the first moment they’d met, the pair of them hadn’t got on; Louis hadn’t liked the way Finch barged his way onto the boat. Finch, for his part, had seemed annoyed when he found out Louis’ surname, and never failed to needle him about his parentage - or his looks.
–Not got an earring yet, then, Weasley? Not growing your hair long, or trying to use your Veela charm?†he’d whisper.
Louis would stare him out. He wasn’t afraid of Finch, despite his dorm mate being a head taller and a lot broader.
–Can’t wait to see your Boggart, Finch,†he retorted. –Bet it’ll turn into a brain. How the hell will you defeat that?â€
Laura Ackerley, walking slightly ahead, started to laugh; Finch said nothing, but glowered and tried to trip Louis up. Dodging the outstretched leg, Louis lagged behind, starting up a conversation with Gwennie Salter and Isobel Jones, who were both fretting.
–I know mine will be a rat!†Gwennie was saying. She shuddered. –I hate rats; their tails make me scream. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it.â€
–Um, tie a knot in the tail,†Louis suggested.
She beamed, and both girls linked arms with him, Isobel confiding that she was most scared of heights and had no idea how a Boggart would manifest itself.
–And how on earth will I make it less threatening!†she exclaimed.
–Keep your feet on the ground, maybe?†Louis said, keeping his voice low because Professor Goldstein had stopped walking and was making sure they were all together.
–Thanks,†she whispered back, and squeezed his arm. –What about you?â€
But before he could answer, Professor Goldstein had opened the door to a small, dimly lit room and ushered them inside. Against the far wall, there was a wardrobe. It was large, made of wood and elaborately carved. The professor informed them that it belonged to his former head of house, and they laughed, unable to imagine old Professor Flitwick - now retired but living out his days at the school he loved so much - needing a wardrobe that large to house his robes. But on being told it was used to store Professor Flitwick’s collection of Quidditch robes and memorabilia from the past eighty years, the class fell silent in reverential awe.
–And then, last week, Professor Flitwick discovered a Boggart had moved in, and knowing how hard I’d been looking for one to show my third years, he didn’t dispose of it but has let it embed itself amongst his things.†He grinned at the class. –We’d better get rid of it before it starts riding the broomsticks. Right, who can tell me how to defeat a Boggart?â€
Isobel put up her hand. –You need to make it funny.â€
–Succinctly put, Miss Jones, and to all intents and purposes, that is true. We need it to assume a form that doesn’t frighten us, and so the best way to do that is via laughter. So, class, I need you now to think of the thing that scares you most, and a way to make it ridiculous, or if that is impossible, make it lose its power over you.†He smiled at them, chiding some of the boys who were glowering at him. –Come, come, Finch, even Gryffindors have some fears. How else would they be considered brave if they feared nothing?â€
Louis bit his lip; the thing was, he didn’t know what he was afraid of. Apart from an incident with a dog on the beach when he was eight, he’d not really been scared of anything. It had helped, he thought, having James by his side. The following day when they’d found the dog - now with its owner - Louis had approached (not wanting to look small in front of James) and held out his hand to the mastiff. It had sniffed, then licked, and after that Louis realised there was nothing to be scared of, for it was just a matter of the right approach.
But for the right approach, he first needed something to approach.
–Right, who wants to go first?†the professor asked.
Gwennie stepped forwards, not looking in the least nervous now.
–Miss Salter, what do you think your Boggart will be?â€
–Um, I hate rats, sir.â€
–Me too, I could never understand why people kept them as pets. Do you have an idea how to make a rat amusing?â€
She nodded, and after flashing Louis a small smile, gripped her wand tight and stepped up close to the wardrobe.
Bringing out his wand, the professor pointed it at the wardrobe door, and whispered, –As soon as I open the door, Miss Salter, focus on your idea and shout ‘Riddikulus!’ â€
The Boggart, having obviously heard the noise of them all, emerged as soon as Professor Goldstein unlocked the door, instantly taking the form of a large black rat, scurrying around the floor. Gwennie screamed, and for a moment, Louis thought she was going to run out, but then she focused.
–Riddikulus!†she screamed, and the rat’s tail tied itself into a pretty bow.
–Finch!†Professor Goldstein called and propelled the boy forwards.
The Boggart changed into a fire-breathing Salamander and several of the class stepped back. Watching Finch, and he cast his spell and quenched the fire with a bucket of water, Louis felt a grudging admiration. He might dislike Finch, but he couldn’t fail to be impressed that he’d faced his fear.
Crack.
It changed again, becoming a snarling Grim - quickly muzzled.
Crack.
A spider tangled in its own web.
Crack.
A headless corpse approaching.
Louis frowned, as Laura froze, unable to think of how to make this funny. –Give it a pumpkin head,†he murmured, but she couldn’t hear him, and stayed where she was, her dark eyes widening in fear until Professor Goldstein stepped in front of her.
Crack.
A vampire appeared, its teeth gleaming. The professor, barely looking at it, flicked his wand and the class laughed as its teeth crumbled.
–Weasley, your turn!â€
Crack.
There was nothing there.
Louis stood in the centre of the room; he could feel something resembling a damp fog hanging around him, but nothing appeared. There was no form to strike at, no image to transform. It was as if he was at the centre of blackness, and yet it wasn’t dark. Around him, the class were silent, not looking at him but at the ground as if embarrassed.
–Cast Riddikulus!†he heard the professor shout.
–I can’t, sir,†he muttered, a slow sense of fear beginning to clench at his gut. –There’s nothing here!â€
Instantly Professor Goldstein stepped forwards, the Boggart briefly became a vampire again, and then cried out for Isobel to take the final turn.
Feeling like a failure, Louis slunk back against the wall next to Laura, and tried to ignore Finch’s sly grin. He watched as Isobel neatly defied her Boggart, bringing a careening broomstick under control by fastening a cord onto the brush and dragging it to the ground.
As the whole class laughed, she screamed Riddikulus! and the Boggart disintegrated into tiny wisps of smoke.
–Excellent! Five points to you all.â€
–Uh, sir, Weasley didn’t do anything,†Finch said nastily. –And neither did Ackerley.â€
–Miss Ackerley didn’t allow her fear to overwhelm her, and it was hardly Mr Weasley’s fault that his fear appears not to have a form, and he answered my question at the beginning of the lesson.†He smiled jovially at Louis. –Very intriguing, Weasley.â€
Finch started to snort derisively but said nothing else. Eyeing him with suspicion, Professor Goldstein clapped his hand on his shoulder and led him out of the room, bidding the others to follow. Louis hung at the back, only Laura was behind him, disconsolately scuffing her already scuffed and unpolished shoes on the floor.
–Cheer up,†he muttered.
–I froze,†she whispered. –I didn’t ‘ave a clue ‘ow to make it funny.â€
–You didn’t run away screaming, though,†he said, and smiled sympathetically.
–Neiver did you,†she replied sadly as she followed the others.
Louis stared at the now silent wardrobe, aching for another turn, but the Boggart had gone.
Douglas Finch told the whole common room that Louis was scared of everything.
–Boggarts, you see,†he assured a group, comprising of first and second years, –get confused when they see two people with different fears. It’s not surprising that this one couldn’t change, when Weasley’s such a wuss -–He broke off and started to laugh. –Ha ha, Louis Wussley, that’s gotta be your name now.â€
–Oy, Flinch,†called James instantly, from the fireplace where he was standing with Louis. –I was told you were scared of piddling firecrabs. Any idiot can cast Aguamenti.â€
–Aww, Wussley, how lovely that your younger cousin rides to your rescue - yet again!†Finch taunted. –Not got the guts to stand up for yourself?â€
Louis shrugged. Beside him, he could feel James stiffening, anger rising through his body, but Louis just didn’t care. Finch’s day in the sun would be short-lived, and by tomorrow, no one would remember that Louis’ fear was nameless.
–Take him on,†James muttered. –He’s an arse.â€
–He’s not worth it,†Louis replied. He saw disappointment flaring in James’ eyes, and smiled a little. –I have to share a dorm with the git, all right.â€
–He’s saying you’re a coward!â€
Sighing, Louis stepped away from James and towards the common room door. He wanted the think this out for himself and maybe track down the professor, see if he had any ideas. But as he reached the door, he heard Finch making clucking noises, and something inside him sagged. He turned his head slightly, found himself looking at Laura, who was watching the exchange, and then swallowed. He couldn’t think of a smart retort - he wasn’t James, after all - so instead of trying to gabble out an excuse, he started to whistle as he stepped out of the close atmosphere of the common room and into the corridor.
A few days later - the Thursday before Halloween - Louis was still trying to puzzle out his Boggart. The name ‘Wussley’ was being hissed in class occasionally, but not as frequently as ‘Flinch’...
Louis chuckled to himself, but somewhere inside there was a faint twinge of envy. Much as he liked his cousin, and when they weren’t in lessons they were inseparable, he’d noticed that James had a way of making things popular that Louis never could. Just as his sister Victoire sparked off a craze of wearing a high ponytail by scrunching her hair up one day when she was too lazy to wash it, so James’ every utterance seemed to become Hogwarts lore. He never tried to be cool, but even at the age of thirteen, he just was.
–Oy, Lou, where you going?â€
Louis turned around, rearranging a grin on his face when he heard his cousin’s voice. –Uh, library. Why, do you need something?†He turned around, noticing James was wearing old robes and carrying a broomstick.
–No!†James looked at him askance. –Quidditch tryouts, had you forgotten?â€
–Uh ... not bothering this year.†He shrugged. –Don’t look at me like that. Langton is not going to drop my sister, and Beater’s the only position I’m interested in.â€
–Well ... uh ... would you come along and ... uh ... watch?†He was mumbling his question, as if embarrassed and as Louis looked at James, he saw a tinge of red infusing his cousin’s cheeks. Touched that James was asking, Louis nodded.
–Library can wait. What are you trying out for?â€
–Chaser, naturally,†James replied, and as he started to walk towards the stairs, Louis noticed some of his natural cockiness returning in his gait. For a moment, Louis wondered whether to grab his own broom, but James had always been the better flyer, and Louis knew he didn’t have the Chaser instinct for glory. He’d support James, and then if he did get a place in the team, Louis could always sit with Al and Rose when Gryffindor played.
Whether it was down to Louis’ support or not, James flew a brilliant trial. The Gryffindor captain flying alongside his fellow Beater, Louis’ sister, Dominique, certainly noticed James, and got him to fly another lap whilst lobbing Bludgers at him. Laughing, James dodged them all then, hovering in front of Myles Langton, he shot the Quaffle directly past the Keeper and straight into the right hand hoop.
–Don’t get cocky,†Louis murmured, knowing the one thing that annoyed Langton were players who thought they were bigger than the team. (The fact that Langton thought himself better didn’t seem to matter. Dominique mimicked his ‘I am the team’ with uncanny accuracy at the Gryffindor table.) Then he watched as James swooped back down to the grass to pick up another Quaffle. He glanced towards Louis, a smile writ large on his face, which changed to bemusement when Louis shook his head.
–Am I doing okay?†James asked.
–Yeah, better than Flinch, anyway,†Louis replied, and grinned. –Don’t make Langton look stupid. Dom gets away with it because he fancies her.â€
James winked then swooped back towards Langton, his posture conciliatory, even as Langton waved him condescendingly back to the ground. Finch was up next, and to Louis immense satisfaction, he missed the goal hoop for three of his penalty attempts. James had flown rings around him, and should be a shoo-in.
A cold breeze started to flit around him, and he shoved his hands into his cloak pockets in an attempt to keep warm. His fingers touched something, and he frowned slightly, as he tried to work out what it was. Now he thought about it, his cloak had been on a different hook from where he thought he’d hung it, and he definitely had no recollection of putting something in the pocket. He touched it again; it felt soft and furry. With his lips pressed tightly together, Louis pulled out the foreign object and held it up for close examination.
It was a bat. More pertinently, it was a dead bat. Tipping his head sideways, Louis noticed its stiff body and folded over wings gave it the appearance of a tiny, sleeping vampire.
–What have you got there?â€
Louis looked up to see his cousin, Molly, standing in front of him. Molly was three years older, the same age as Dominique, and the only member of the Weasley family (so far) not Sorted into Gryffindor. With her light brown hair, and small frame, she didn’t look much like a Weasley, either, and certainly didn’t have their temperament. Whilst he knew she wouldn’t dissolve into hysterics over the dead bat, she might just question him because he knew how protective she felt towards the members of her family.
–Nothing very pleasant,†he said decisively, and with his wand conjured a handkerchief to wrap it in. –And not important. Why are you here? It’s a Gryffindor trial.â€
Molly joined him on the bench. –I’m not spying for Hufflepuff, if that’s what you’re worried about,†she said, trying but failing to sound arch. –Thought I’d support James, that’s all. And Lily will want to know how he did. I can’t imagine James writing home straight away.â€
Covering up the dead bat, and placing it on the floor, Louis shifted closer to Molly. He’d always got on with her, but then Molly got on with all her cousins. Sympathetic and easy to talk to, she was far less temperamental than his sisters.
–I’m surprised you weren’t trying out. I thought James would have persuaded you.â€
He repeated the line about only wanting to be a Beater, but there was something about the way Molly was looking at him, her blue eyes so knowing, that made him turn away. She said nothing more about it, merely remarking that James had flown well. Then, lifting her cloak hood to cover her long plait, she stood up and declared she was going.
–Bye then,†he called after her.
Molly turned back and smiled. –I hope you weren’t planning to scare Victoire with that bat. She’d hex you into the middle of next week and you don’t want to miss the Halloween Feast.â€
–Oh, er...†He stopped and for one moment, as Molly hesitated, Louis wondered whether to tell her, but it was just a dead bat, a practical joke, probably, and it wasn’t as if he was scared. –Yeah, not a good idea. Don’t tell her.â€
–Secret’s safe with me, as you know,†she called back over her shoulder as she started back to the castle.
The following day, just before lunch, Myles pinned up his team on the notice board as well as a training schedule. To Louis’ utter delight, but not really a surprise, James had made the team and Finch wasn’t even a reserve.
–Brilliant!†he said, high fiving James, who was trying - but failing - to look as if he really hadn’t been nervous.
–Having the right name obviously helps,†Finch muttered, then sneered, –Didn’t help you though, did it, Wussley?â€
–He didn’t try out,†James said, deliberately yawing. –Merlin, you are getting boring about this, Flinch.â€
–I noticed he wasn’t flying. Is that something else he’s scared of?â€
–He can fly rings round you,†James said coldly. –You’re just jeal-â€
–I’m off,†Louis interrupted.
–It’s lunchtime,†James said in surprise. –Where you going?â€
–Library,†he replied curtly, and shifted his bag onto his shoulder. It was a lie - at least he’d not planned on going to the library because he was hungry - but now he thought about it, the Boggart conundrum was still gnawing at him, and he ... Hell ... he just needed time by himself! If that meant skipping lunch and finding a quiet corner hunched over a set of books, then that was what he’d do.
Barely anyone was in the library when he’d got there, but he saw someone he knew. Laura Ackerley was sitting at a corner table, but despite having a stack of books in front of her, none of them were open, and she had no quill or parchment out on the table. Instead, she was staring out of the small window, her teeth biting her lower lip as she clearly brooded on something. With a sigh, Louis guessed what it was. He wandered over, pulling up a chair and asked if he could join her. Laura started to say no, but then on seeing who it was, she nodded.
Close up she looked tired, the rims of her eyes pink, her chestnut hair tied in a scraggy bun at the nape of her neck, but she still smiled at him, if a touch wearily.
–You okay?†he murmured.
–’M’alright,†she whispered. –Isobel’s jus’ a bit annoyin’.â€
–What, teasing you about your Boggart?†Louis pulled a face. –Don’t let it bother you.â€
–Nah, it’s not that. Isobel and Gwennie are bein’ very nice about it. But ...†She laughed slightly and her voice caught in the throat. –They’re both bein’ too sweet. It’s drivin’ me nuts.â€
–Ah, well,†he sat back in his chair and shoved his hands in his pockets. –At least you’re not being called ‘Wussley’!â€
She giggled a little, heartened no doubt by Louis sounding so unconcerned. –I don’t think you’re scared of everythin’,†she murmured.
–Nor do I,†he replied as he opened up his bag. Rifling through his books, he sighed as he sighted something unfamiliar in his bag and pulled it out. –And, I’m certainly not scared of a toad.â€
–Isn’t that Boris?†she asked, referring to Finch’s pet.
–Mmm, I think he’s trying to work out what I’m scared of. At least he didn’t kill this one,†Louis said, placing the toad onto the table.
–YOU THERE!†screeched Madam Pince from her desk. Louis snapped his attention towards the librarian. –YES, YOU WITH THE BLOND HAIR! PETS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN MY LIBRARY.â€
Raising his eyebrows, Louis picked up Boris, got to his feet and after saying goodbye to Laura, scooted out of the library before Madam Pince could box his ears.
What happened later that day really wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know how she’d found out - either Laura had blabbed, or his sister had been in the library - but Dominique grabbed him as he wandered into the Great Hall to snatch a late lunch and hustled him behind a suit of armour.
–Lo, sis, what’s the matter?â€
–I could ask you the same thing,†she hissed. –What’s this I hear about that prat Finch taking the piss out of you?â€
Louis shrugged. –It’s nothing.â€
–It has to be something. Myles said that the Slytherins are calling you Louisa Wussley!†she spat. –So spill, little brother.â€
He spilt. With a groan, because he was seriously hungry now, he told Dominique about the Boggart lesson, and how Finch had been needling him ever since.
–I’m not bothered,†he said, shrugging. –It’ll soon blow over. And the Slytherins are always going to call me something.â€
–I mind!†Dominique replied fiercely. –What’s Flinch been doing?â€
–Uh, planting things on me, mainly,†Louis replied, and furrowed his brow as he remembered an incident in the night. –Oh, yeah, and he tried to pretend he was a ghost coming to get me. Stupid prat’s so clumsy, though, he tripped over.†As Dominique loosened the grip on his arm, Louis wriggled away. –Seriously, though, it’s not a problem. I went back to sleep.â€
–What did he plant on you?â€
–This.†Louis pulled Boris put of his pocket, grinning when Dominique pulled a face. –It’s his toad. I was going to return it to him in his stew.â€
Smiling grimly, Dominique held out her hand for the toad. –I’ve got a better idea,†she muttered. –Leave it with me.â€
He hated it when Dom assumed that tone, her expression determined and furious. Louis wanted to protest, to beg her to let him deal with it, but he knew his sister. She would not let this rest. He handed over Boris, and then slunk back to Gryffindor Tower, his appetite gone.
In his dormitory, as he slung his bag across the floor, he noticed his bed looking ruffled. The house-elves had generally tidied by that time, and everyone else’s eiderdowns were smooth. With a sigh and a flick of his wand, Louis levitated the bed covers into the air and stared at the sight before him.
–You might as well come out, I’m not scared of spiders, either!†he said, scooping up the three Stunned spiders one by one in his hands and then throwing out of the window. By the time he turned round, Finch and his mate Alfie Trent, were stepping out of the wardrobe. Alfie, Louis was pleased to see looked shame-faced and muttered an apology, but Finch met Louis’ contemptuous stare with one of his own.
–Only trying to help, Wussley,†he said. –Get you to conquer your fears one by one.â€
–Yeah, great, thanks a lot,†Louis muttered. –Now just bog off and leave me alone.â€
–Alf and I were here first,†Finch retorted. –You should go, if you don’t want our company.â€
But as much as he wanted to be alone, he didn’t want to give Finch the satisfaction of driving him away, so turning around and closing his ears to the taunts that he knew would soon surround him, Louis tidied his bed, then lay down and began to read. There was a hollow deep in the pit of his stomach, which he knew wasn’t down to skipping lunch. And as Finch and Trent started a loud game of Gobstones, which seemed to involve Finch cracking jokes about chickens and clucking a lot, Louis read and re-read the essay title in his homework planner.
‘Boggarts take the form of your greatest fear. By conquering your Boggart, you become truly brave. Discuss, using examples.’
Typical Goldstein essay. Intellectualising fear and adding philosophy. Louis grimaced as he imagined the Ravenclaws already pontificating and handing in essays over three feet long. He’d be lucky to manage an inch. After all, how could he write about a fear with no name?
It was later that evening, after tea (Louis had more than made up for skipping lunch and had tucked in with gusto), when he was sitting in the common room making a start on his essay. Gwennie was sitting opposite, her head bent over her parchment and scribbling away furiously, whilst Isobel was lazily flicking though her notes. Laura, on the other hand, was simply staring at her blank parchment, with not even the title written. Unused to starting an essay more than a night before it was due, Louis was reading a book he’d unearthed about Boggarts. It wasn’t much use, merely reiterating all the information he’d heard or read before, but it was better than doodling. The reason he was starting early was simple: James was at his first practise and that left Louis with time on his hands.
–Wussley, catch!â€
Louis looked up, and at that moment, a jar of slimy newts’ eyes rained down on him. He spluttered and spat as the girls yelled, then with a handkerchief, wiped his face and shook the small globules out of his hair.
–Nope, Flinch, not scared of them, either,†he said, and grinned at Laura who was looking at the table in horror.
–Why don’t you leave ‘im alone?†she shouted.
–Er, Laura, it’s okay,†Louis said. –I’m not scared of newts’ eyes.â€
–We’re ‘elpin’†Finch repeated, in a cruel exaggeration of Laura’s accent. Snatching up a handful of the newts’ eyes, he squashed them into her blank parchment, leaving a foul brown stain, and started to laugh. –And now I’m ‘elpin’ you. That’s what the Boggart did to you, ain’t it, Ackerley? Made you crap yourself!â€
On his feet in an instant, Louis lunged at Finch. Not caring that he was shorter and not nearly as strong, he swung out with his fist, landing a very satisfactory punch on his jaw. It was a short lived victory, for Finch tipped him over and pinned him down on the carpet as he started to shove the rest of the newts’ eyes in Louis’ mouth, roaring with laughter as Louis gagged and retched.
But just as he managed to wriggle his hands free, placing them flat on Finch’s chest to heave him off, someone else roared into the room.
–Get off, you little creep!†shouted Victoire, her eyes flashing with fury, as she grabbed Finch by the arm and pushed him against the wall.
–I’m fine,†Louis tried to tell her, but his words were lost as the next minute they were joined by Dominique and James, returning with Myles from Quidditch practise.
–Glad you’ve got him, Victoire,†called Dominique, –I’ve got something of his and have been meaning to give it back.†She snapped her fingers at James, and he handed over a small box he’d been carrying.
Then James crouched beside Louis. –Watch this, should be a lot of fun.â€
But Louis’ heart was sinking. Dominique, relishing the moment, dug her hand into the box and pulled out Boris. –Here you go,†she taunted, holding the toad out to him. –Have your pet back.â€
Warily, Finch held out his hand. Boris croaked at him, and reassured, he snatched his toad from her hand. The instant he touched it, the toad became two, then four, then eight - all of them jumping towards Finch, on his shoulder, chest, head, face -
–Get them off!†screeched Finch, as the toads multiplied even more, miniature ones tangling in his hair, slimy ones slithering under his robe.
Louis watched, a smile twitching on his lips, but then as laughter began to ripple around the room, he saw the other spectators. Pushing their way to the front of the crowd circling Finch, were Al and Rose, and just behind them was his other cousin, Lucy, now in the fourth year.
He glanced back at Finch, now wriggling on the floor as the toads hopped all over him. They locked looks, and he saw the loathing deep in Finch’s eyes.
–Enough’s enough, Dom,†Louis muttered.
–I don’t need help from you, Wuss ...†Finch squirmed as another toad hopped onto his stomach. –Weasley,†he spluttered.
–Mmm, think he’s learnt his lesson,†Dominique said, a slow smile on her face as she lazily Vanished the toads, leaving only the real Boris sitting on Finch’s chest.
Louis looked away. He could still feel the newts’ eyes in his mouth. It had been unpleasant, but that was all. And as James started to help him up, he felt a sense of self-loathing flow through him. Pushing James away, Louis got to his feet and with as much dignity as he could muster, staggered out of the room. He heard James shout something, and then someone else - possibly Lucy - calling his name, but he’d had enough. Picking up the pace, he fled from Gryffindor Tower running for all he was worth - not from his house - but his family.
It was Molly who found him. He’d run down two flights of stairs, before hitching lifts onto moving staircases, until he had very little knowledge of where he was. The corridor he found himself wandering along was dimly lit but somehow comforting. Paintings on the walls were of landscapes, shepherdesses swaying as they danced in fields, pretty girls singing in fantastical meadows. He slowed to a halt just as the corridor twisted into a narrow staircase, and disconsolately sat on the bottom stair, his head in his hands.
–Louis, is that you?â€
–Oh, er ...†He wiped his eyes, hoping she’d think he was just a little tired, and looked up to see the kind, warm and sympathetic face of Molly looking down at him. –Hi.â€
–What are you doing here?†she asked.
–Uh ... not sure,†he replied and sniffed. –Sorry, I just needed to get away for a bit. I’m not somewhere I shouldn’t be, am I?â€
–No, it’s fine. I’m just surprised to see you here, that all. It’s a Hufflepuff shortcut.â€
–Thought I’d never seen this place before,†he muttered and looked all around. –Where do the stairs lead?â€
She smiled at him and sat on the floor. –Up there is the Prefects’ bathroom.†She wrinkled her nose and then pulled out something from his hair. –You smell as if you could do with a bath. What has happened to you tonight?â€
–Oh, this prat in my year emptied newt eyes all over me?â€
–The same prat who put that dead bat in your robe?†she queried softly. –I saw your look of surprise when you pulled it out of your pocket.â€
–Uh ...†he blushed furiously. –Yeah, the same prat.â€
–Hmmm, he wouldn’t be called Douglas Finch, would he?â€
–Might be.†Louis fidgeted on the stair, shuffling his feet and not meeting Molly’s gaze. –How do you know?â€
–Lucy mentioned it,†she said vaguely. –And then Dominique. They’re a bit worried about you.â€
–Why?†He sat up, this time not afraid to look into her face. –Molly, Finch is an idiot. We don’t like each other, but I can handle it. Or at least ...†He trailed off. It was true that for the past two years he’d survived with Finch. They didn’t like each other, but they usually just avoided spending time together.
–Has something happened to change things?†she asked.
–Uh ... yeah, possibly,†he muttered. And although he really didn’t want to go over this, although he was tired of thinking about that lesson, and Finch, he found himself telling Molly all about his Boggart.
–Or rather, there wasn’t a Boggart,†he said. –And Finch will be even more determined to find out what I’m scared of.â€
–Ughh! Boggarts. I still remember that lesson.†Molly shivered. –Mine was an eagle swooping down to peck at me.â€
–I didn’t know you were scared of birds,†he said, puzzled.
Placing one hand on Louis’s shoulder, she smiled quite sadly and then stared at the painting opposite, examining a particularly pretty shepherdess, gaily tripping through a green pasture. –Fears can be quite abstract things, Louis. And Boggarts aren’t always literal, especially when you’re not sure what you’re scared of.â€
–I was surrounded by nothing,†Louis admitted. –Finch told everyone I was scared of so much that it confused the Boggart, which was why it had no form.†He stared at his hands. –James and Dominique are annoyed with me for not standing up for myself.â€
–Are you scared of him?†She asked, her hand squeezing his arm. –I wouldn’t blame you because he’s quite a bit bigger than you, and older, isn’t he?â€
–No, I’m not!†Louis protested hotly. –He’s an idiot and a bully, but I landed a punch on him and ... UGH! It’s not my fault that he can’t see past my bloody surname.â€
–Or anyone else,†Molly murmured as she got to her feet. –I know how hard it is trying to live up to the name Weasley. Sometimes I think I escaped lightly when I was Sorted into Hufflepuff. I know Mum and Dad were ... disappointed, to put it mildly, but at least this way no one expects anything of me.â€
He watched as she removed some newts’ eyes from her robes, not complaining, not sounding bitter, and not making any fuss - as unlike any of the Weasleys or Potters as she possibly could be.
–Why an eagle?†he asked suddenly.
–Something I wondered about,†she replied. –But then I remembered it was Rowena Ravenclaw’s emblem and ...†She trailed off, twisting her fingers around a pleat in her robe, before saying briskly, –Mum’s old house, Louis. Wasn’t nice facing up to that, but, well, I bound up its beak and clipped its wings.â€
He goggled at her. Aunt Audrey was austere, but she’d always been perfectly polite, if a little distant and disapproving of him and James. He couldn’t imagine anyone being actually scared of her; it wasn’t as if she had a fierce temper. He wanted to quiz Molly further, but she had a curiously closed look on her face, and he knew she’d already told him far more than she’d ever meant to.
–How can I work out my Boggart?†he implored her.
–Why are you out here, Louis?†she called from over her shoulder as she stepped away. –Why aren’t you with James talking about this? Or Dominique? Or Victoire? Or even Lucy, Rose and Albus?â€
–I ...†He faltered, unable to think, and as Molly walked off, becoming smaller and smaller until she finally turned the corner and was lost from sight, he felt as if the answer was slipping from his grasp.
James was waiting for him when he got back, and much as Louis wanted to slink off to bed, he joined him on the sofa, and started a game of Wizards Chess. Nothing was said about Finch, which surprised him, but catching a look pass from James to Victoire, who was sitting by the bookshelves in the corner, he wondered if they were embarrassed. He tried to concentrate on the game, but soon James had marshalled his pawns and they were laying into Louis’ knights with unbound ferocity.
–You’re off your game tonight,†Rose remarked. –You usually beat James easily.â€
–Bit tired,†Louis mumbled, and holding his hand over his mouth he feigned a yawn. –Think I might go up.â€
He caught another look between James and Victoire, and then James pulled on his arm. –Uh ... do you want to bunk down with me, tonight?â€
Louis snorted. –Why, are you scared of the dark?â€
–No, we ... uh ... I just th-thought-â€
–That I was too scared of Flinch to return.†He smiled wryly, surveying his sister and cousins with one sardonic look. –Can’t run away, can I?â€
–That’s not what I meant,†James said. He stood up, the sleeve of his robe brushing against the chess pieces and sending a noisy Bishop tumbling off the table. –He was angry, Louis, and swearing revenge.â€
–That’s not my fault, is it?†Louis muttered. His voice rose, and the few now left in the common room, stopped what they were doing to listen. –I didn’t want you lot involved, but no, you and Dominique just assumed you knew better, didn’t you? Well, thanks a bloody lot, but I’ll deal with it, okay!â€
–Louis, James is only trying to-†cut in Victoire.
–And I don’t need you, either,†he howled. –What the hell do you think it looks like having the head girl fighting my battles? It ... it would be like Dad hexing Teddy every time you had an argument!â€
No one said a word. There was a small nervous titter flowing around the room, and then the occupants were silent, heads bent over books as Louis stomped towards the stairs.
–Louis,†someone called.
–What!†he snapped, but turning round, desperately wished he could have bitten the work back. There hunched against the wall was Laura, her fingers twirling around one of her brown curls as she waited.
–Uh ...†Her voice quavered, but she took a breath and carried on. –Jus’ wanted to say ‘thanks’, that’s all. For punchin’ Flinch. You din’t ‘ave to, but ... yeah ... thanks.â€
His cheeks flamed, but despite the discomfort, Louis felt ridiculously pleased with her gratitude. –Was nothing,†he mumbled, trying to act nonchalant, but he knew his lips were twitching into a smile. He cast around for something else to say, and noticed a roll of parchment sticking out of her bag. –Did you ... um ... write any more of your essay.â€
She shrugged, looking downcast. –Little bit, but not about my ‘eadless corpse. Dunno ‘ow to make that funny.â€
–How about a stupid hat?†Louis offered. –Or else a big ruff, like Nearly Headless Nick. He’s not scary.â€
Her eyes widened as her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. –That’s brilliant!†she gasped, and started to giggle, her face alight with amusement. –If only we ‘ad a Boggart here, I’d cast the best bloody ‘Riddikulus’ in the class.â€
She’s pretty when she laughs, Louis thought inconsequentially. Then, after saying goodnight, he turned away, intent on trudging to his dormitory.
–You know somethin’,†she said, –I don’t think you’re scared of anythin’ and that’s why you’ve got no Boggart’, so don’t let Flinch get to you, all right?â€
He said no more, but flashed her a small smile. Finch was no doubt plotting some dire revenge, but Louis knew worrying about it would only add to the tension. He’d deal with whatever it was when it happened.
(Although a few Shield Charms while he slept wouldn’t go amiss.)
With Nev (named after a Battle hero) Chadwick and Bill (another Battle hero name, but unintentional as he was a Muggle-born) Thornton already in the dorm, Finch wasn’t about to try anything. Louis walked into the room, quirked a quick smile at his friends, noticing that Alfie wouldn’t quite meet his eye, and then paced across the floor to where Finch was reading.
–That trick with Boris wasn’t my idea,†he said.
–Didn’t think it was,†Finch replied woodenly. He peered over the top of his comic, his grey eyes cold. –You wouldn’t have the guts, Wussley.â€
–It’s Weasley,†he said as he turned away.
In the bathroom, as he washed his hair and splashed water on his face, he stared at himself in the mirror. But the steam was misting up the glass and soon his face disappeared in a light film of grey.
‘Don’t let Flinch get to you, all right.’
Smiling, he placed his finger on the mirror and wrote, ‘Weasley woz here’. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork, even as the letters began to drip, and then he clicked his tongue and bent forwards to insert one word.
‘Louis Weasley woz here’, read the message on the mirror.
It was probably a good thing that the third years had their first Hogsmeade trip scheduled for the next day. It certainly prevented Finch from taking anything approaching revenge for fear of being sent to detention. The other upside (as far as Louis was concerned) was that after last night’s argument he needed some time apart from James. He still joined him at breakfast, sliding alongside him and listening as James told him all about Quidditch practise. At the far end of the table, waving a piece of toast in the air as she talked, he saw Victoire laughing with her friends, no doubt discussing where she’d be meeting Teddy, and Dominique sipping tea as Myles rambled on. Louis caught the bored expression on her face, and smothered his grin. She smiled back, almost warily, and raised her hand in mock-salute. After the storm of yesterday, it was obvious that she assumed that the air between them was clear.
–Merlin. It’s so unfair that you get to go and I don’t. You’re only two weeks older than me,†James complained when Louis was getting ready to leave.
–Tough, little cousin,†Louis teased. –Tell you what. If you’re a good boy, I’ll bring you back something from Weasleys’.†He jangled his moneybag in front of James’ face and started to laugh.
–I still have my birthday box from Uncle Ron,†James said. –Buy me something from Honeydukes instead - ‘specially if they’ve got Vampire Toffee in.â€
–The stuff that pulls out your fangs ... yeah, sure,†Louis replied, and giving a whistle, he sauntered out of the common room, loping after Nev and Bill.
The day in Hogsmeade was better than he could have dreamt. Although he also had a large part of his birthday box of tricks from his uncle left, Louis still took great pleasure in visiting the Hogsmeade branch of their shop. Ron was working that day, greeting Louis cheerfully and getting him to demonstrate some products to his friends, before handing him a pack of free fireworks whispering, ‘Don’t tell the others, okay?’
(Sighting his sister wrapped around Teddy had caused him a moment of squirming embarrassment but, fortunately, he’d been able to divert Nev and Bill away from the path behind Honeydukes and steered them into the Three Broomsticks.)
Madam Rosmerta, who his Dad still talked about fondly (to his mum’s chagrin) welcomed him warmly, but with the air of someone who’d seen it all before. She served up three Butterbeers, almost automatically, but still with a smile and gestured towards a table in the corner, telling Louis it was a favourite for the Weasleys.
They hurried back, almost the last to leave, clutching their goodies and barely feeling the nip of cold in the air so high were they on the excitement of the day. Nev had bought a large bag of Cherry Choc Bombs and was sharing them out. Bill was chatting nineteen-to-the-dozen about everything he’d seen, excitement sparking in his eyes as he tried to capture every single moment to memory.
And as Louis chewed sweets and listened to Bill, he wondered what it would be like to be experiencing this all for the first time, to see through fresh, virgin eyes the wonder of a magical village.
Bill’s good spirits were infectious and it was with a light heart and sense of mischief that the three of them entered the castle. Unfortunately for Louis, his feet for once disobeyed him and he tripped on the trick step, bouncing down five stairs. Laughing, he waved the other two on, whilst he picked up his spilled sweets and left over money then, limping slightly, made his way to Gryffindor Tower.
It was when he was climbing up the sixth flight of stairs that he heard someone sobbing. He slowed down, wondering where the noise was coming from, and frowned. It didn’t sound like Moaning Myrtle (who although she haunted the girl’s toilets had once surprised him when he’d been about to step into the shower, regaling him with stories about his mum in the black lake getting caught by Grindylows), and from where he stood he couldn’t tell if the cries were from a girl or a boy. Hearing some whispers, he stopped outside a classroom, noting with surprise that it was where he took Ancient Runes.
–Is anybody there?†he called, knocking on the door. –Myrtle, is that you?†Getting no response except another yelp, he creaked open the door.
It was then that Finch struck.
Hauling him inside the class, laughing as he pushed Louis against the wall, Finch snatched his wand away, and stashed it in his pocket. –Look, look, Alf. Wussley’s turned up. Now let’s see exactly what he’s scared of.†His face was alive with pleasure, malevolence lighting his eyes and with both hands, he shoved Louis forwards, forcing him into someone.
–Please, please, ‘elp me!†Laura whimpered. –I can’t make it go away.â€
–Brought you a friend, Ackerley!†Finch yelled.
–Make what go away?†Louis demanded, but whatever it was had disappeared as soon as he’d stepped in front of her.
Laura was on the ground. As she clutched onto Louis, he felt her wet face and realised it was her cries he’d heard. He was about to ask what they’d done to her, but as she huddled into him, he felt a slow cold heaviness descending on him. A grey mist appeared, a blanket of nothing, and behind that, he could see vague forms, none looking his way. He shouted out to them, but although the forms appeared to be getting closer, no one noticed him. He felt the same nameless fear clutch at him, but something else. A vague inkling, an answer in his mind, but without a wand, how would he tackle it?
–Hope you appreciate what we’ve done for you,†catcalled Finch. –Took Alf and me days to track down another Boggart.â€
–Let her go,†Louis said, his voice rasping as he tried desperately not to give in to the heavy fog blinding him into obscurity. –You’ve had your fun.â€
–She’s funny!†Finch replied, –and we want to know what it’s like when a Boggart meets two cowards, don’t we, Alf?â€
Alfie muttered something from the corner. To Louis he sounded ashamed, perhaps he hadn’t realised just how far Finch was prepared to go for revenge. If it had just been Louis, then maybe Alfie wouldn’t have objected and shrugged it off as a prank, but surely he could see that by forcing Laura here, this was no longer a prank but a cruel and vicious bout of bullying?
–Trent!†Louis shouted. –She’s wandless! At least have the guts to make this a fair fight!â€
–Don’t listen to him, Alf!†Finch ordered.
–We could let her go,†Alfie said, a tremor in his voice. –Let both of them go. We don’t want to miss the feast, Dougie, do we?â€
In the gloom, as the bleakness began to descend again upon Louis, he couldn’t see or hear Finch’s reply. There was a rushing in his ears, a whirring and spinning, and even as Laura clutched him, he started to feel numb.
–Giving up, Wussley? What a little hero you are!â€
It was those words, that terrible taunt of his name, the subversion of his family into something pitiful, that struck the chord. His hand reached automatically for his wand ... and then he stopped, feeling something else in his pocket. –Laura,†he whispered urgently as he handed her a fistful of fireworks, –take these and throw them as hard as you can at Finch’s feet.â€
He didn’t hear her assent, but in the next instant the room was lit up with sparks, and cracks rent through the air. Alfie yelped, jumping backwards and crashing into a stack of chairs. Finch started to shout, but at that moment, Louis forgot his Boggart, forgot the very terror that had gripped him and leapt across the room, tackling his tormentor to the ground.
–CATCH!†he yelled, throwing Laura her wand. He found his own, snatching it back from Finch’s sweaty palm, and held the tip to his chest. –Don’t give me any more reasons to hex you, Flinch, ‘cause I’m dying to!â€
He could hear Laura’s breath from here, a gasp and a moan as the Boggart materialised in front of her. A headless, rotting corpse, blood oozing, arms outstretched as it sought to claim her.
–Ridd- ridd-†she panted.
She can’t do it! he thought, and loosened his grip on Finch’s robes in an effort to help her. But then, Laura took a deeper breath; he saw the furious determination on her face and then she screamed, –RIDDIKULUS!â€
In a flash, the Boggart’s arms dropped to its side, and something emerged from its bloodied neck. Laura giggled, and Louis whooped when he saw what she’d conjured. A pink frilly bonnet appeared, tied tight under the chin of a Boggart head now resembling Finch. The arms that had seemed so menacing, were smoothing down its robes as it preened in front of them.
–Your turn, Louis!†Laura called, and stepped back to train her wand on Finch.
He strode forwards, a strange sense of anticipation flooding through him as he approached. The Boggart changed, again settling into the dank, grey mist of before. He thought of Finch calling him ‘Wussley’, Victoire and Dominique rushing to his defence, James thinking up smart replies, Lucy’s concern, Rose and Al making their way at Hogwarts - proud to be Gryffindors. Molly, always on the outside, scared of her Mum but able to face it.
He thought of Madam Pince not knowing his name, Professor Goldstein puzzled at the boy in front of him, Rosmerta showing him the Weasley table in the corner, and lastly Uncle Ron handing him free fireworks, with a sly wink and a ‘Don’t tell the others.’
He was ready.
–I am the fifth grandchild of Arthur and Molly Weasley and their first grandson,†he began, then gripped his wand even tighter as he roared into the emptiness surrounding him. –I AM LOUIS CHARLES WEASLEY AND I AM NOT NOTHING!†He paused, took a deep breath and then his laughter filled the room. –RIDDIKULUS!â€
As Laura added her triumphant whoops to the refrain, the Boggart exploded into myriad wisps of silver smoke.
–You did it!†she cried, tripping towards him.
–So did you,†he replied, a huge smile on his face as he turned to Finch. –You suited that bonnet, Flinch. Fancy another?â€
As he cast the spell, conjuring a pink lace bonnet that perched on Finch’s shaven head, he heard a noise from the side and then a steady ripple of applause. In the doorway, flanked by James and Albus, stood Professor Goldstein.
–That was fantastic!†Albus said as he stared around in awe.
–How long have you been there?†Louis muttered.
–Long enough to see you both defeat your Boggarts,†the professor said, a glimmer of merriment in his eyes that turned to ice when he surveyed the room, taking in Alfie cringing in the corner and Finch cowering on the ground, fighting to remove the pink bonnet. –You two, come with me.â€
As Professor Goldstein hauled Finch and Alfie out of the room, Louis turned to James, waiting for the wisecrack, but instead, a smile of genuine pleasure rippled across his cousin’s face. –We were worried when you didn’t come back with the others,†James explained. –Al had seen Flinch and his mate hanging around here earlier; then we heard the fireworks just as Goldstein was passing us. Dunno why we were so worried. You were incredible.†He started to laugh as he stepped into the room. –Even wandless, you defeated that git!†Then holding out his hand to Louis, he said, –Coming to the feast?â€
Louis heard Laura sigh, her shoulders sagging, and out of the corner of his eye saw her biting her bottom lip. His hand found hers, soft, warm and comforting and with a pleasurable squirm in his stomach, he realised he didn’t want to let go.
–We’ll be along later, James,†he said clearly.
James raised his eyebrows and looked as if he was about to mock his cousin, especially when he saw Laura squeezing Louis’ hand, but he must have seen something in Louis’ expression, for the next second he grinned and pulled Albus out of the classroom, promising to save them both places.
–He was right,†Laura murmured. –You were incredible an’ fantastic an’ brilliant and -†She sighed, a giggle catching in her throat, –I said, you wasn’t scared of nothin’!â€
–I was scared of being nothing,†he muttered, and in that admission, he felt an enormous sense of release. Up close, she smelt of Butterbeer, caramel and firework smoke. There was a smudge on her cheek, streaked by her earlier tears, and her hair stuck out in every which way it could. Yet as she gazed at him, all Louis could see was the velvetiness of her dark brown eyes, and all he could hear was the strange sound of his erratic heart thumping against his ribs. He lowered his head, touching his lips gently to her cheek. –But not anymore.â€
The Unimaginable Fear of Louis Weasley by Equinox Chick
Chapter Endnotes: Reviews are lush and if you managed to make it through this lengthy story, then I'd sure appreciate knowing what you thought.