Quote:
Originally Posted by
Kolyander 
Taking his place in line, Feli waited his turn, mind already racing, panic setting in and it wasn't even his turn! Each person ahead of him that moved onto the next part of the course brought him closer to his own turn. His fingers already brushing over the cool wood of his wand that was hidden away in its holster. Another step forward. Dark eyes watching, heart racing as Vi took his turn. This was it. He was next. Please, please, please don't take the form of his deepest fear. Any other fear was perfectly fine with him. No one would have much to say about any of those.
His turn. Deep breath. Slow steps forward. The fear already there. Fingers closed around his wand. Breath hitching in his throat as he awaited the appearance of what he knew was to come.
Birds.
The Boggart, defeated by one pesky seventh year Gryffindor, now lay in wait for its next victim. It sensed him approach, sensed the fear. Most importantly, it sensed what it needed to be turned into.
From the beaten up wardrobe sprang a bird. It was not just any bird. It was a bird that was as tall as a fully grown ostrich. Its feathers were mostly green though the tips of the were colored flaming red. Its eyes were also red and its beak was curved and wickedly sharp. It glared at Feliks.
SQUAWK!
The bird flared its impressive wings as it lunged.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
AlwaysSnapesGirl
Wait.
It was her turn already?????
Eyes wide, she realized there was no one else in front. It was... her... turn...
Um. Well. Okay, well-
Okay. She couldn't chicken out now. THAT would also be embarrassing. So. Okay.
Maybe this would be...fine. The last time she'd only been a kid, and now she was older, wiser (questionable), and - the best part of all - knew some magic. So maybe she could handle this now. Maybe she wouldn't humiliate herself.
Wand gripped tight in her hand, Avalon took a deep breath and forced herself to take a few steps forward. Each step felt like there was a lead weight on the bottom of her feet, but she took them nonetheless.
She was...ready? Sure. Hopefully.
The wardrobe doors burst open with a violent creak. For a moment, one could see darkness solely from within. Suddenly… a low sound… sobbing, was it? Then, a figure emerged slowly. Its form was gaunt and draped in tattered grey robes that drifted unnaturally across the ground. Long strands of blackened hair hung over a hollow face stretched too thin over sharp features. Pale skin. Sunken and lifeless eyes.
The banshee did not walk so much as glide forward. Around her, the air grew cold despite the weather charms in place. A shriek pierced the air, a combination of grief and rage.
Without warning, the boggart-banshee lunged.