human again / hp.

Chapter 50

The warm glow of the common room fire bathed everything in flickering amber light, making the shadows dance against the walls. I sat on one of the oversized armchairs near the hearth, knees tucked under me as I flipped through an old Herbology textbook. Beside me, Neville Longbottom was busily scribbling on a sheet of parchment. Every so often, he glanced nervously at a small, wrinkled list sitting beside his pot of ink.

"What are you working on?" I asked, closing my book and leaning closer. The air smelled faintly of ash and ink, mingling with the scent of parchment.

Neville sighed, holding up the list. "Passwords. Sir Cadogan's gone completely mad. He's already changed it twice today, and it's barely lunchtime."

I couldn't help but grin at his exasperation. "Well, at least he's thorough," I offered. "Imagine if Black somehow managed to get past him."

Neville looked at me with wide eyes, the quill pausing in his hand. "Do you really think he'd try again? After what happened with the Fat Lady?"

"Who knows?" I replied, leaning back into my chair. "If someone's determined enough, they'll find a way."

Neville swallowed audibly, then returned to his scribbling. I felt a pang of guilt for worrying him, so I added, "But honestly, I think Cadogan would probably challenge Black to a duel before letting him pass."

Neville snorted a laugh, his mood lightening a bit. "Yeah, and lose horribly."

We both laughed at the thought of the tiny knight charging a fugitive like Sirius Black, and the conversation drifted to lighter topics as the minutes passed.

The next day, I walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts with Draco by my side. My twin had spent most of breakfast muttering about Quidditch, his mind fixed on the upcoming match, but as soon as we entered the classroom, his attention shifted. Snape stood at the front, his dark gaze scanning the students as we filed in.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Draco whispered to me as we took our seats. His tone was casual, but I could sense his curiosity.

I shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he's sick?"

The chatter in the room quieted as Snape turned sharply, pulling down a screen over the blackboard. It snapped into place with a resounding thud.

"Turn to page 394," he ordered, his voice slicing through the silence.

I opened my textbook, flipping quickly to the page. As the sound of rustling pages filled the room, Draco pulled a piece of parchment from his bag, a sly grin creeping across his face. He began to scribble something, glancing toward Harry Potter's seat with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Harry raised his hand. "Excuse me, sir, but... where's Professor Lupin?"

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

I shot Draco a look, silently urging him to pay attention, but he ignored me, his quill scratching furiously. A moment later, he cupped his hands together, and a moth fluttered out, zigzagging toward the ceiling. I rolled my eyes, mouthing, Really? at him.

Snape waved the moth away with a flick of his wand, extinguishing a nearby candle as he did. The room darkened slightly, and an ancient woodcut of a horrific beast appeared on the screen at the front. It depicted a snarling creature, its jagged teeth bared and claws poised to strike.

"Werewolves?" Ron whispered loudly, frowning down at his book.

"But, sir," Hermione interjected, her hand shooting into the air. "We've only just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks—"

"Quiet!" Snape snapped, his patience clearly nonexistent.

From across the room, Draco let out a low howl, earning a smattering of giggles from Crabbe and Goyle. I glared at him. "You're going to get us all in trouble," I muttered under my breath.

Snape's gaze swept the room, landing on Hermione again. "Now. Which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?"

The class sat in tense silence, no one daring to move except Hermione, whose hand hovered in the air like an eager flag. I glanced at Draco, who was now doodling something on his parchment. Typical.

When no one answered, Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "How... disappointing."

Finally, Hermione spoke, her voice steady. "An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice in the matter. Furthermore, the werewolf actively hunts humans and responds only to the call of its own kind—"

Draco interrupted with another howl, louder this time. Laughter rippled through the Slytherins, but Snape wasn't amused.

"Quiet, Malfoy!" he barked. "Though one must admit to feeling your pain, Miss Granger. That is the second time you have spoken out of turn. Tell me, are you incapable of restraining yourself, or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"

A tense silence followed, broken only by Ron's muttered, "He's got a point, you know."

I resisted the urge to groan. Hermione looked mortified, her cheeks flushed as she sank lower in her seat. Snape, apparently satisfied, turned back to the class.

"As an antidote to your ignorance," he said icily, "I prescribe two rolls of parchment on the werewolf by Monday morning, with particular emphasis placed on recognizing it."

He paused, his sharp gaze snapping to Harry. "Passing notes, Potter?"

Harry stiffened as Snape snatched the parchment from his desk. He unfolded it slowly, his expression unreadable. Draco's smirk widened as Snape examined the crude caricature of Harry being struck by lightning, the figure collapsing dramatically over and over again.

"Not exactly Picasso, are you?" Snape said, his tone dripping with disdain. "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."

Draco and his friends dissolved into sniggers, and even I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. Harry, however, looked less than amused as he stared down at the drawing. I nudged Draco lightly with my elbow, whispering, "You'd better hope he doesn't find a way to get back at you."

Draco just grinned, leaning back in his chair as though he hadn't a care in the world. I sighed, shaking my head. It was going to be a long year.