A Hogwarts Legend: Changing Paths [3]

Chapter Nineteen

Unedited

Chapter Nineteen - "No, not Sirius Black."

Ravenclaw plays Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin win, though narrowly. According to Wood, this is good news for Gryffindor, who will take second place if we beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increases the number of team practises to give a week. This means that with Lupin's Anti-Dementor classes, which in themselves are more draining than six Quidditch practises, I have just one night a week to do all my homework. Even so, I'm not showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seems to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione is to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tabled spread with books, Arithmancy charts, Rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely speaks to anybody, and snaps when she's interpreted. Only Maya, Elinor and I can get away with helping her, which we do when ever we can.

"How's she doing it?" Ron mutters to Harry and I one evening, as we sit finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. I look up. Hermione is barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.

"Doing what?" I ask.

"Getting to all her classes!" Ron says. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them, either!"

I don't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible timetable at the moment; I really need to finish Snape's essay. Two seconds later, however, we're interrupted again, this time by Wood.

"Bad news. I've just been go see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt's. She - er - got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you two staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if they threw you off, as long as you scored some goals and caught the Snitch on them first." Wood shakes his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me ... you'd think I'd said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep them ..." He screws up his face and imitates Professor McGonagall's severe voice, ""As long as necessary, Wood" ... I reckon it's time you ordered new brooms. There's an order form at the back of Witch Broomstick ... you can get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got."

"I'm not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good," says Harry flatly.

*

January fades imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw is drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry and I still haven't ordered new brooms. Harry is now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson, Ron standing hopefully next to us, Hermione rushing past with her face averted, Elinor and Maya rushing after her.

"No, Potter, you can't have it back yet," Professor McGonagall tells us the twelfth time this happens, before he's even opened his mouth. "We've checked for the most of the usual curses, but Professor Flitwick believes the brooms might be carrying Hurling Hexes. I shall tell you once we've finished checking them. Now, please stop badgering me."

"I told you we should stop asking," I cross my arms.

To make matters even worse, Harry and I's Anti-Dementor lessons are not going nearly as well as I have hoped. Several sessions on, both of us are able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the Boggart-Dementor approaches us, but our Patronus's are too feeble to drive the Dementor away. All they do is hover, like a semi-transparent cloud, draining us of energy as we fight to keep it there.