Tierney's Boggart

The professor stood between the steamer chest holding the boggart and the rest of the class. "Excellent work turning a huge dinosaur into a funny little stuffed animal. Very good. Who is next? Perhaps someone from Gryffindor House?"

The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor stared directly at a tall, seventh year with black hair and a wry grin on his face. Tierney Dearborn stepped forward. "I guess it's my turn now, professor." He opened his cloak and stood face down before the large wooded box

The professor grinned and stepped to the side of the steering chest that held the boggart. He reached down and loosened the lock.

Tierney raised his face toward the boggart and closed his eyes. He could feel a cold breeze across his face and presumed the boggart had changed. The breeze lessened and soon stopped. A women's voice spoke softly.

"Dear Tierney. My, my! How you have grown."

Tierney opened his eyes. Two meters away from him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was tall and long black hair fell to her waist. Her smile was bright and her eyes were a deep brown. Tierney stared into her heavy-lidded eyes that were equal parts seductive and disturbing. Her white blouse was buttoned to her neck and appeared to be too small for her. She wore a pair of green velvet riding pants and black riding boots that reflected the candlelight of the classroom. Her cloak was held in her left hand and swept up on the floor like a train of a wedding gown. Tierney noticed the brooch of a Slytherin student on the deep green cloak. She began to talk again.

"I'm offended, dear child. Don't you recognize me? Didn't your father ever speak about me? My beauty, my grace? I am mortally wounded." Biting on her lower lip coyishly, she looked down at her feet. She smiled again at Tierney and raising her hand to her blouse, she quickly unbuttoned the top buttons. She returned her gaze to him and battled her eyes. " My young man, I am Bellatrix Lestrange." Tierney nodded and made a slight gesture with his left hand for the boggart to continue. She smiled sweetly once again.

"And I so badly wanted to be your mother. Oh yes. I asked your father if I could adopt you on the day he buried your real mother. He tried to strike me, such ingratitude. Of course, that might be because I told him he might be dead soon himself." She looked down for a second at her

cloak and then returned her gaze to Tierney.

"Don't you wonder, my dear, sweet boy, what you would be today if your father gave you to me

instead of hiding you away from my prying eyes? Here, let me show you." Lestrange moved her arm up; the cloak followed and billowed open. She brought her arm high over her head and then swept it down. A student gasped. Next to Lestrange was a mirror image of Tierney, dressed in

the same style and colors as she. Tierney stared hard at the image. He saw that Lestrange's Tierney was more muscular and heavier that he was. He also saw that the face was dead of emotion and the eyes were cold and lifeless. Bellatrix turned to Tierney and smiled. The cloak fell to the floor and her left hand began to caress the fake's Tierney's cheek. She began to step around Tierney's image but her hand continued to caress his cheek like she was petting a kitten.

"Look at yourself as you should be: Strong, gifted, and smart. Top honors for Slytherin and Hogwarts. Prefect, Head Boy, skilled duelist, strong flyer. You would be admired by some, feared by all, and, most importantly, loved by me. And, of course, sitting at the right hand side of my Lord and Master." She turned to glare at Tierney.

"Do you know my son would have the emblem of a Death Eater burned across his ENTIRE BACK?"

Tierney heard her voice changing. The sweet, almost flirtatious tone had hardened to a callous and unfeeling voice that caused some students in the classroom to wince. Tierney's face, however, remained impassive as Lestrange continued.

"He wanted you, Tierney. The Dark Lord knew the son of Caradoc Dearborn would be a great wizard. He so badly wanted your father to fall under my womanly charms. But he was in love with that lowly peasant Polish witch. Once she died, I tried again. But he said 'NO' to me." The voice

grew harsh and cold. "And no man says 'no' to a daughter of the house of Black. I will find his body, dig up his worthless bones, and give him enough life so that he can beg for forgiveness on his knees. Then, I will kill him once more."

Lestrange turned and walked towards Tierney. She stepped closer to him and the fake Tierney followed her like a lap dog, just a step behind and to her left.

"And what did you inherit from your cowardly father?" Her voice was cold, arrogant, and full of disdain. "He gave you an infection; a disease that makes a person think of Mudbloods and Muggle-borns as equals to us purebloods. He ruined your mind and tainted your purity.

Look at what you are today: a mere student. BAH! Tierney, you should be ruling our world. You would be ruling our world. What greater gift is there? You are sick, my dear, dear boy. You don't even know it, but I shall show you. LOOK, TIERNEY!!"

The voice echoed off the walls of the classroom. A narrow beam of light caused Tierney to blink. When he reopened them, Tierney saw a large, old-fashioned hypodermic needle in Lestranges's right hand. The barrel of the hypo was 20 cm high. The long thin needle gleamed in the candlelight. Lestrange was once again caressing her Tierney's face. As he stared closer, he saw that her hands were changing color to a dull greenish gray. The fingers were becoming thinner and the nails on her hand were growing. Tierney watched as her hair became white and started falling out of her head in large clumps.

Suddenly, Lestrange took her left hand, caressed the back of the false Tierney's head, reached up and, using her hand like a claw, pulled the head back. Tierney watched as her nails pricked the skin. With a sweeping motion, Lestrange turned on her feet and plunged the needle into the front of the boggarts' Tierney's neck. The fake Tierney's face did not change expression. She drew the plunger back and a sickly black tar-like fluid filled the chamber. Lestrange removed the needle from the neck over and over; stabbing the other Tierney with the needle until the chamber was full She removed her hand from the head with a sickening 'POP!' The fake Tierney collapsed to the floor. Lestrange walked over to Tierney and extended her right arm. Tierney could see bits of tissue and other matter floating in the chamber. He turned his face to look at Lestrange .The lovely black haired witch was gone. Standing before him now was a hideously ugly, old woman. Her skin was green, dry, scaly and stretched taut across her face. She now had a wrinkled, plucked look. The brown eyes now glowed red. Both hands looked more like owl talons, thin and yellowish. Her frame was thin and bony. The stylish riding clothes now hung loosely around her frame, like drapes on a curtain rod. When she spoke, her voice was no longer sweet and soothing, but was a high-pitched whine that alternated between a scream and a whisper.

"SEE? Your blood is BLACK! BLACK!! But I can HELP you. I will make you well and your blood pure AGAIN! I can teach you all the Dark Arts. You can be the next Dark Lord. YOU WILL be the next DARK LORD!! And I will be BY YOUR SIDE!"

A tooth from Lestrange's open mouth flew out in a straight line and struck Tierney on the nose. It fell swiftly to the ground; Bellatrix continued talking. Tierney saw her tongue was now forked and she began to lisp.

"Think of the power you could wield. All you have to do iss betray Hogwartss and Dumbledore. Deny your father'ss influenccce on your life. Voldemort wantss you. He will placcce you above the ssssonssss of Goyle, Crabbe and even Malfoy. Just ssay the word, sssay THE WORD--"

"Riddikulus."

Tierney spoke in a voice so soft the students in the back of the classroom barely heard him. His wand was waist high and pointing at Lestrange. A black shroud fell over both her and the fake Tierney. Instantly, the shroud vanished and two male figures now stood in front of the class. One figure was tall and thin and wearing a strange gray flannel outfit. He had a bushy, pointy moustache below his nose that seemed too large for his face. It was clearly not a real one. There was writing on the front of his shirt. It read 'ST. LOUIS WOLVES.'

The second figure was short and squat, jumping around the taller man in an ill-fitting gabardine suit. The shorter man wore a straw hat while the taller man wore a baseball cap. The taller man was talking.

Abbott: Well, I'll introduce you to the boys. Now let's see. We have on the bags - we have Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know's on third.

Costello: That's what I wanna find out.

Abbott: I say Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know's on third

Costello: You know the fellows' names?

Abbott: Certainly!

Costello: Well then who's on first?

Abbott: Yes!

Costello: I mean the fellow's name!

Abbott: Who!

Costello: The guy playing first!

Abbott: Who is on first!

Costello: All I'm tryin' to find out is what's the guy's name on first

base.

Abbott: Oh, no - wait a minute, don't switch 'em around. What is on

second base.

Costello: I'm not askin' you who's on second.

Abbott: Who is on first.

Costello: I don't know.

Abbott: He's on third - now we're not talkin' 'bout him.

The short man looked out to Tierney with a confused look on his face.

The class laughed and Tierney laughed longest of all. As the class

continued to laugh, the two characters found themselves being pushed by

an unseen hand back in the old box that held the boggart. The lid

closed with a satisfying SLAM. Tierney turned toward the class. His

face was lit with a warm and kind smile

"That sketch always makes me laugh. Professor, who's next?"

Source: www.whos-on-first.com

Used by permission. All right reserved.