𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 || h.potter

five || Year 3 ✔️

All the students were seated together, waiting for Professor Lupin. Suddenly, Professor Snape bursts through the door and closes the windows. He pulls down a screen over the blackboard and pulls it down.

He turns facing his students. "Turn to page 394." As the students eye Snape with guarded curiosity, Malfoy finishes scrawling something on a bit of parchment and balls it up with his hands. As he opens them, a moth flutters from his palms.

"Excuse me, sir, but...where's Professor Lupin?" Amelia hears Harry ask.

"That's not really your concern, is it, Potter?" Snape turns to him. "Suffice it to say, your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Page 394."
Snape waves the moth away, blows out a candle and a slide show begins. An ancient  Woodcut of a horrific beast  flickers at the front of the room.

Ron frowns down at his book. "Werewolves?"

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

"Quiet!" Snape scolds before Hermione could finish. Amelia looks at the Professor in hatred.

"When did she come in? Did you see her come in..." Ron asks Harry, confused and startled.

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

As the class stares mutely at a slide of an attacking Werewolf, Amelia and Hermione's hand shot up, waiting for Snape to at least call one of them as the moth flutters by Harry.

Swat! He pins it to his desk. A tiny cloud of moth dust mushrooms into the air and Harry lifts his palm. Malfoy's parchment has reappeared.

"No one? How... disappointing." Snape trails away, ignoring Amelia and Hermione's hand.

"Please, sir," Hermione desperately answers. "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 --"

Malfoy lets out a low howl. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy." Snape turns towards Hermione, glaring at the girl. "Though one must admit to feeling your pain. That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Tell me. Are you incapable of restraining yourself? Or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"

"He's got a point, you know." Ron says to Harry.  Harry stares at the parchment. Malfoy has drawn a crude caricature of Harry in his Quidditch robes being struck by lighting over and over.

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Snape calls. He turns to the class, continuing his lecture.
"As a antidote to your ignorance, I prescribe two rolls of parchment on the werewolf by Monday morning, with particular emphasis placed on recognizing it."

Snape suddenly turns his head towards Harry.
"Passing notes, Potter?"  Snape snatches the drawing from under Harry's nose and Eyes it.

"Not exactly Picasso, are you? I hope you demonstrate more talent on the Quidditch pitch this weekend then you do as an artist."

As Snape continues to scold Harry for doing absolutely nothing, Amelia trails off in her thoughts.

/*

as the lighting strikes one of the golden Quidditch Rings and the clouds bloom with icy blue light. Far below, in the stands, rain lashes the sea of umbrellas.  As one flies
free, soaring end over end into the sky, the...crowd explodes and two Quidditch squads -- Gryffindor in scarlet , Hufflepuff in canary-yellow -- shoot into the air. Twin bludgers fire  skyward, and the match is on.

Amelia as a Chaser, she shoots the Quaffle in the goal hoops, trying her best to not get hit. As her robes snaps violently in the wind, as she flies, rain falls like needles before her.

Every deal cloud concealing potential danger. Beaters crisscross her path. A buldger whizzes past her, every dark cloud concealing potential danger. Amelia sees the Beater go into a wild spiral, vanishes in the mist. Then, Amelia sees a stitch of lighting striking the tail of Angelina Johnson's broom, it bursts into flames, she then plummets to the pitch.

She throws the Quaffle, perfectly in the goal hoops earning ten points for the Gryffindor team.

"Yes!" She smiles. Amelia looks above her, looking for Harry. She sees him above the clouds disappearing out of sight. Amelia looks around and sees the dog she saw before, she smiles slightly.

Suddenly, she hears a woman scream. She shakes her head and looks up, she sees Harry with the Dementors, she flies up, and goes beside Harry.

"Harry? Harry! Are you alright?" She shouts, everything started to freeze. She sees two Dementors followed by more. Amelia's eyes started to flutter and wisps of silvery white light float from her mouth. She looks at Harry, and it was doing the same, their fingers, rigid, can no longer grip the broom and they fall.

"No!!" Hermione screams. Harry and Amelia's broom tumble In opposite directions.

Dumbledore rises from the crowd, Raises an open hand to the heavens. Eyes angry but clear. An explosion, more powerful than thunder, rocks the air. A Flash, more fierce than lightning, shocks the sky.

Everything goes black.

/*

"Looks a bit peaky, don't they?" A voice says. Ron.

"Peaky? What d'you expect them to look like? They fell fifty feet." Another voice says. Fred.

"Yeah, c'mon, Ron. We'll walk you off the Astronomy Tower and see how you come out looking." Another voice said. Hah, George.

"Probably a right sight better than he normally does." Harry retorts. Harry opens his eyes and Ron, Fred, George, standing at the foot of their bed in the hospital wing.

"Yeah." Amelia opens her eyes, straightening up. "How about I'll push Ron off the Astronomy Tower?" Hermione was right beside Amelia's bed, sitting on a chair.

"Harry! Amelia! How're you two feeling?" Hermione asks, worried.

"Brilliant." Amelia and Harry replies, sarcastically.

"Gave is a right good scare, mate." Fred says to Harry.

"What exactly happened?" Amelia asks, eyebrows raised.

"Both of you fell off your brooms." Ron replies.

"Really? I meant the match." Amelia corrects. "Who won?"

There was silence and uncomfortable glances. Hermione spoke up. "No one blames you two. The Dementors aren't meant to come on the grounds. Dumbledore was furious. After he saved you two, he sent them straight off."

Harry looks at Amelia. "You know, Amelia. You shouldn't have came to me."

"I had to," Amelia shrugs. "There was another scream. I-I thought it was someone from the Team."

"Seriously, Amelia. You shouldn't have." Harry argues.

"It happened, and it's in the past. So deal with it." Amelia narrows her eyes at the boy.

Harry nods grimly, stares at the rain lashing the window.

"There's something else you should know, Harry. Your Nimbus -- when it blew away? -- it sort of landed in the Whomping Willow. And well..." Ron tips a bag of splinted wood and twisted twigs onto the bed. As Harry stares, we hear a gentle wind.

"Bloody hell happened to mine, Ronald?" Amelia looks at the ginger head boy.

Ron then takes another bag, then puts it on Amelia's lap. "Yours too..."

Amelia mutters under her breath and lays back down on her bed, looking at Hermione with an annoyed look. "I swear to Merlin, I'm going to chop that bloody tree off."