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10

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy this evening. I'd decided to join Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were sitting together next to a window. I sat on the window sill itself, reading as I laid my head on the glass that separated me from the stormy evening.

Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway. They weaseled it out of the girl, though she was willing to give the answers in her notes and discreet corrections if the boys read them carefully enough.

Harry suddenly got up, causing me to look up at him with a questioning look. "I'm going to go grab my book from Snape." He said. Ah, yes. His book. He and the other two had told me all about it, and Harry secretly shared his suspicions with me, which I agreed with.

"Better you than me," Ron and Hermione said in unison. They were going to get together, I'd make sure of it.

We'd lapsed into silence; Ron was chewing a Chocolate Frog and Hermione had continued checking the other two in her trio's homework... I'd offered to help her, but she insisted on doing it on her own. Said it'd give her a better understanding of the work if she was able to figure out the boys' shabby work. I'd continued the book I'd been reading until Harry came barging into our corner.

By the time he'd finished explained, I was slightly in shock. Snape's leg was torn up... Filch was helping him, not Pomfrey... Snape had said something about a three-headed thing. It sounded fake, but it be something that Pomfrey didn't know about, and as for the three-headed thing, it could be some adaption of Cerberus from Greek mythology. I certainly wouldn't be surprised about that part.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween!" Yes, they'd told me about the dog as well. It freaked me out, but I made them all promise to bring me next time. They could die. "That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide. "No- he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. Roxanne?

The three first-years turned to me. I knew it'd cause fights between the trio if I went with one side. "I think Hermione's right about Snape... He... owes Dumbledore. With a lot. I wouldn't put it past someone new, though... or anyone, for that matter. It must be one of the teachers, though. But what're they after? What's that dog guarding?"

Ron, Hermione, Harry and I spent the rest of the time until curfew pondering this question. I went to bed with the questions still buzzing in my head.

I didn't get a lick of sleep that night.

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The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. I'd decided to sit with Hermione, Ron and Harry with their little group of first-year friends. The raven-haired boy would be nervous; it was his first Quidditch match after all, and he'd be the youngest player on the field.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.