Hogwarts is My Home (A Harry Potter Fanfiction), Part 3/7

Chapter 8

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Dumbledore announces. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts. Sleep well." The Hall begins to buzz.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouts Percy Weasley, the Head Boy. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" I ask Grier. She shrugs.

"Who knows? Nobody knew he was in here, so nobody knows if he's out," she replies.

"I wonder where he was," Ash says. "Surely nowhere near the Great Hall, if he wanted to kill anyone, because we didn't see him. Maybe he was looking for something."

"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouts. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!" The candles all went out. Our only lights were the eerie, silver one produced from the ghosts, and the stars on the enchanted ceiling. Yeah, this seems like a scene straight out of a horror movie. A lot my friends continue to whisper, but I fall asleep, since I'm so full I can barely stay awake.

* * *

The school can talk of little else but Sirius Black for the next few days. Everyone had theories about how he got in. I have other things to worry about, the first Quidditch match is on Saturday, against Gryffindor. I made the team, with me as center Chaser, Graham on the left, and Marcus on the right. Lucian Bole made left Beater and Peregrine Derrick made right. Draco got Seeker. Warrington got Keeper. Marcus gives us a shock at the end of practice.

"We're not playing Gryffindor. Hufflepuff is. I've informed Wood about this. Our Seeker's arm is injured. Our first game is against Ravenclaw." That gives me more time to prepare, and more time to worry.

* * *

The day before the match, Draco can't help but tease Potter. Again. And again. And again.

"Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better," he says while we're waiting for Lupin to come to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Potter gets called over by Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and Keeper, so he can't reply. Snape comes in ten minutes after class is supposed to start.

"Professor Lupin is ill today, so I will be teaching the lesson," he says. "Take your seats. Professor Lupin has not--"

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I--" Potter says, bursting in, then stops short and stares at Snape.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Potter asks.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape says. "I believe I told you to sit down."

"What's wrong with him?" Potter asks.

"Nothing life-threatening," Snape says. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty." Potter finally sits down. "As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far--"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," Granger says, "and we're just about to start--"

"Be quiet," Snape says. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean says. There are murmurs of agreement.

"You are easily satisfied," Snape says. "Lupin is hardly overtaxing you -- I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss-- werewolves."

"But sir," Granger says, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks--"

"Miss Granger," Snape says, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394. All of you! Now!" I open my book to page 394. "Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" No one raised their hands except Granger. "Anyone?" He waits again. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between --"

"We told you," Parvati says, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--"

"Silence!" Snape snarls. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are. . . ." Yep, that's my dad. That just put the weird factor in there, but I did some legal snooping-- I mean research -- over the summer and found out that he is technically my dad. Yikes.

"Please, sir," Granger says. "The werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf --"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape says. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all." Granger goes red. Aww poor thing. I know everyone hates being picked on by Snape. He doesn't bother us Slytherins too much. Every single Gryffindor glared at Snape.

"You asked us a question and she knows the answer!" Weasley says. "Why ask if you don't want to be told?" Oh he went too far.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape says. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

For the rest of the lesson, all we did was take notes and listen to Snape's teaching. The bell rang at last.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention." Wow, that was a bad class, especially for the Gryffindors.

* * *

It's the day of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match. I'm going for Hufflepuff, since Emma is on the team. So is the rest of Slytherin, because they hate Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is half-and-half. I can't believe they didn't cancel the match. It's not like one of the players will get struck by lightning. Never. I brought an umbrella to the match, and it almost got blown away. We're sitting in the stands now, and despite the weather, almost the entire school came to watch the match.

"I'm glad we're not playing," I yell to Draco over the wind. "How's your arm?"

"It's fine, you know it is," he yells back.

The match begins. The players are struggling against the wind, and no one can see the Bludgers. Twice a Beater accidentally hits a player, and Chasers miss almost every time. The match goes on for hours, and Gryffindor is winning, 50-0. Come on, Emma! The players keep colliding. Wood calls a time-out. The timeout is over. Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Captain and Seeker, streaks across the pitch. He's seen the Snitch! Harry Potter struggles to keep up with him.

Suddenly, everything goes cold. Colder than it was, anyway. I look, and on the ground of the pitch, there's about a hundred dementors! Potter falls off his broom. Everyone is screaming, it's chaos. Diggory catches the Snitch. He turns around and sees Harry on the ground, and tries to ask for a replay. It's too late, the deed is done. Hufflepuff won! Dumbledore runs out onto the field. He shoot some silver light at the dementors, and they leave. He's furious. He conjures a stretcher to put Potter on and takes him up to the castle. Is he dead?