𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 | 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

35 || Halloween (Not) at Hogsmeade

Dear Ash,

I'm sorry this letter took so long. Tiny kept wanting to add onto his part.

We are doing well here, thank you for sending food and such. Noah really likes the treacle tarts. How're you holding up? I got your letter about your dad. I'm really, really sorry.

I know I don't understand and I don't really know how to help, but I wish I could. Just keep busy and hang out with your friends.

How's your boooooooooooooooooooyfriend?

I just wasted a lot of ink writing that.

That Dementor thing sounded nasty. I know they're trying to catch Black, but doesn't it seem a bit dangerous to have them around the students? 

Anyway, here's Tiny:

Hi Ash! I miss you. Noah and I made up a new game and everyone likes it. How are you doing? Everybody misses you a lot like Prissy and Ella and Brent and stuff. Can you send more food? Also I still have my locket.

Come home soon, love Tiny.

He's adorable. Also, Noah's made friends with Dusk. They adore each other and anyone he doesn't like he bites and scratches; he's very protective over you. I think it's sweet. I miss you loads!

Love,

Maren.

I replied to Maren quickly, her words and Tiny's bringing a rare smile to my face. I petted Dusk's head and he nipped my finger affectionately. I missed Maren a lot, and wished she could be at Hogwarts. It would make everything much more enjoyable.

--

In almost a day, Defense Against the Dark Arts became most people's favorite class. Only Malfoy and a few Slytherins had anything bad to say about Lupin, and their insults were only about the state of his robes.

Luckily, I never had to face the Boggart. I found myself being drawn to Professor Lupin's classroom in my free time, drinking tea and sitting on the edge of my seat for stories about my mother.

Unfortunately, Potions was not as enjoyable. My combined humiliation of Professor Snape and the Boggart being forced into Neville's grandmother's clothes made him in a worse mood than ever. He was bullying Neville worse than ever and wouldn't allow anyone to help him.

Divination was as terrible as ever. Professor Trelawney's large eyes would fill with tears whenever she looked at Harry; and the heavily perfumed air of the room always made me feel sluggish and stupid.

Nobody liked Care of Magical Creatures now, because after the action-packed first lesson and Malfoy's injury, Hagrid seemed to lose his confidence. We were now spending day after day poking lettuce down tiny, boring flobberworms' throats.

However, when October started, Quidditch season started, which was a welcome distraction from school and a certain mass murderer on the loose.

Oliver was more stressed than ever because it was his last year at Hogwarts and he desperately wanted to win the Quidditch Cup.

"This is our last chance--my last chance--to win the Quidditch Cup," he told us, striding up and down in front of the team. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.

"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world--injuries--then the tournament getting called off last year." Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best--ruddy--team--in--the--school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. "We've got three superb Chasers."