𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

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ⅹⅴ.  🇭‌🇴‌🇬‌🇸‌🇲‌🇪‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌



Emelia sat in the Defence classroom, waiting for their teacher to show up. Suddenly, the heavy door opened and Snape appeared, walking hurriedly to the front of the class while shutting the boards of the windows, bathing them in darkness.

"Turn to page 394."

Emelia quickly did so, not wanting to receive the wrath of Professor Snape.

"Excuse me, sir, but... Where's Professor Lupin?" asked Harry.

"That's not really your concern, is it, Potter? Suffice it to say, your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Page 394."

He pulled down a screen over the blackboard, and a slideshow began. An ancient woodcut of a horrific beast flickered at the front of the room. She saw Ron frown at his textbook.

"Werewolves?"

"But, sir, we've only just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks–"

Snape interrupted Hermione, "Quiet!"

"Now. Which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?"

Emelia stared mutely at the slide of an attacking werewolf. She waited for someone to respond to Snape's question, but no one did.

"No one? How... Disappointing." Snape directed his gaze to Emelia. He knew that she knew.

Emelia sighed before answering. "A werewolf doesn't choose to turn every full moon. An Animagus, however, can turn into an animal at free will, whenever they want to."

"Ten points to Slytherin. I prescribe two rolls of parchment on the werewolf by Monday morning, with particular emphasis placed on recognizing it."

He suddenly whipped his form to where Harry was sitting. "Passing notes, Potter?" He snatched the drawing from under Harry's nose and eyed it.

"Not exactly Picasso, are you? I hope you demonstrate more talent on the Quidditch pitch this weekend than you do as an artist. If not, I fear you'll perish, given the weather forecast. Until that time, however, you'll forgive me if I don't let you off homework. Should you die, I assure you... You need not hand it in."

The flash that accompanied the lightning outside lit the library up like the charm Lumos Maxima would have. The heavy pattering of the rain against the large windows soothed Emelia each time the lightning would strike violently with a loud bang.

Once again, there was a Quidditch match, and only crazy people would go outside in weather like that. Or at least, that's what Emelia thought. She knew that, despite the horrid weather, the stands were filled to the brim with students.

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