Protective professors; He knows
Dumbledore sent all the Ravenclaws back to the Great Hall, and the students from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin joined them ten minutes later, all looking extremely confused.
"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," said Dumbledore as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed every door into the hall. "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 Head Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts."
He paused as he turned to leave the hall. "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."
With the casual wave of his wand, the tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves up on the walls; A second wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.
"Sleep well," Dumbledore said, finally leaving, closing the door behind him.
The hall immediately began buzzing, many people shoving and pushing to get a sleeping bag or some trying to tell eachother of what happened in the corridor.
"Everyone, into your sleeping bags!" shouted Percy. "Come on now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"
"Someone aught to knock the daylights out of you in ten minutes!" Somebody screamed over the crowd.
"C'mon, ignore them," Ron said as the person and Percy argued back and forth. They all seized sleeping bags and crowded themselves in a corner.
"Where's Draco?" wondered Harry. He knew the Slytherins arrived faster than anyone else-- or, atleast, he thought so, because Quinn was the first in the hall, and he immediately dashed for Harry's side.
"Gone off with Crabbe and Goyle," said Padma, peeking over people's heads. "I think they're not gonna let him go anywhere as long as Black's in the castle, and he knows we don't want them over here..."
"Do you think he's still in? Black, I mean," Hermione whispered, helping Quinn fix his sleeping bag. The moment he let go of Harry, he'd grasped her sleeve in its place.
"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be..." said Ron.
"Real lucky he picked tonight, huh?" Lisa pointed out. "We would've been the ones in danger here if it were any other night, 'cos we all would've been in there, unable to get out."
"Maybe he's lost track of time, being on the run," said Luna airily, staring up at the roof. "Didn't know it was Halloween and just got lucky."
All around them, people were asking eachother the same question-- how'd Black get in the castle?
"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," said Oliver Rivers a few sleeping bags over.
"Disguised himself, probably," said a fifth year Hufflepuff.
"He could've flown in," suggested a Gryffindor.
With every suggestion, Quinn shifted more and more. Harry thought that if anyone was really scared, it was him.
"Honestly, have nobody here actually read Hogwarts, A History?" Hermione said crossly. The castle's protected by more than walls. All sorts of enchantments, wards, runes, and spells... you can't enter by means of stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see a disguise fool a dementor. They guard every single entrance to the grounds, they'd see him fly in... and Filch, whether or not he's good at it, knows all the secret passages. Black would be lucky to get in by way of those--"
She paused. Quinn was nearly shivering now. "Sorry, sorry," she said, very lowly, patting his shoulder. "I'll stop."
"So, quick question," said Padma. "Who's the firstie?"
"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted, before Harry or Hermione could answer. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"
There was a loud rumble of disagreeance, particularly from the older students, but Percy hadn't wanted to hear it in the slightest. Had anyone made any noise near him, he'd raise his wand threateningly, which usually shut them up.
The candles all went out at once. The only light came from the ghosts, who had been conversating very seriously with the Prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, much like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. Whispering still filled the hall; It felt as though they were all sleeping outdoors on a perfectly normal night.
Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the hall to check that everything was still and quiet. Around three in the morning, when mostly everyone had been asleep, Dumbledore came in. Harry, who had been staring up at the ceiling, had barely noticed before Hermione whispered to him to pretend to be asleep as Dumbledore's footsteps drew nearer.
"Any sign of him, Professor?" asked Percy silently.
"No. All well here?"
"Everything under control, sir."
"Good. There's no point in moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Ravenclaw door. They'll be able to move back in tomorrow."
"And the knocker, sir?"
"Hiding atop the chandelier in the North Tower. It refused to let Black in without the password, and as it's not doing riddles anymore, he attacked. It's yet to come down, but once it does, I'll have Mr Filch restore it. Though I fear that too may take a while. The knocker was never meant to leave its post."
The door creaked open once more, and Harry had to resist the urge to open one eye and see who it was.
"Headmaster?" It was Snape. Harry turned his head slightly to hear better. "The whole third floor has been searched. He's not there. Filch has done the dungeons-- nothing there either."
"What about the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"
"All searched."
"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."
"Remarkable feat, don't you think? To enter Hogwarts on one's own, completely undetected... have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" asked Snape.
"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next." Dumbledore said, looking around at the students.
Harry couldn't help but open one of his eyes a fraction and squinted the best he could to see where they stood. Dumbledore was not facing him, but he could see Percy, who had been looking very attentive, and Snape, who looked rather angry.
"You remember the conversation we had, headmaster, just before-- ah- the start of term?" Snape asked, barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out the conversation they were currently having, but in the silence, he could be heard mostly clearly.
"I do, Severus," Dumbledore said, and Harry could've sworn there was something like a warning tone to his voice.
"It seems- almost impossible-- that Black could've entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed--"
"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter," said Dumbledore, in a tone that made it clear the subject wouldn't be spoken about anymore, whatever it had been. "I must inform the dementors," He then said. "I said I would inform then when our search was complete."
"Didn't they want to help, sir?" asked Percy.
"Oh, yes," said Dumbledore blankly, "But I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am Headmaster. I am quite confident the castle is safe with or without their... protection. But for now, we let the students sleep..."
Harry could feel Dumbledore's eyes lingering in his direction, as if he knew Harry was listening.
"It's astonishing what the body can endure when the mind allows itself to rest, no? To be in a world entirely your own. To swim in the deepest ocean or glide in the highest cloud." Dumbledore said almost dreamily, "Quite simply magnificent." With what Harry could've imagined as a smile, he left the Hall, quickly and quietly. The door opened and closed one more time after that-- probably Snape leaving.
Harry reopened his eyes, and was easily distracted by the ceiling once more. He wondered where Sirius was now, as he was apparently not in the castle, now... and why had he gone for the Ravenclaw common room?
"What was that about?" Padma muttered.
"I think they know more than they're letting on. But, I mean, they are teachers, after all, why wouldn't they..." Hermione whispered in response.
"Luna's drooling on my sleeping bag," Ron said quietly, though clearly agitated, as he shifted himself away from her, who had been snoring long before the rest of them.
For the next few days, the only thing just about anyone talked about had been Sirius Black. The theories only grew wilder and wilder, making less sense than the last; Perhaps that was why so many students are coming up with them, trying to out-ridicule one another. A Hufflepuff girl spent all the time she could telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn himself into any of their pets.
The ruined door to Ravenclaw Tower had been unhinged from its place, a portrait now in it's place. Said portrait had been silly-little Sir Cadogan and his pudgy grey pony. It was quite the sight, seeing the students of Ravenclaw looking very near to crying when they'd learned that they weren't going to be back to doing riddles for a very long while. They had even worse reactions upon learning that Sir Cadogan came up with ridiculously stupid-sounding passwords, which he changed two-to-three times a day, and spending majority of his time challenging people to duels.
"I don't think any House has had the luck! It's not even luck, we may as well be cursed! He's a complete lunatic!" wailed Etta after practice, whining to Penelope.
"I know, I know," The latter said tiredly. As Head girl alongside Percy, she had been doing a lot of work, whenever not in class or at practice. It looked as though she had hardly been sleeping. "it's a real shame. No other portrait in the castle wanted the job, and the knocker still needs to want to come down. And even then, 's got to be repaired... and then put back on the door... and then the door's got to be put back..."
Real tears filled Etta's eyes.
Sir Cadogan, although very annoying at times, changing the password anytime nobody was in the common room, was the least of Harry's worries. He was being watched, much more closely than before. The teachers constantly found excuses to walk along corridors with him, and Percy (who Ron suspected to be following Mrs Weasleys orders) had been tailing him and his friends like an extremely pompous guard dog whenever he wasn't busy. Acting as if the cherry on top, Professor McGonagall summoned Harry to her office, with such a sombre expression that nearly gave Harry chills.
"There's no point in hiding it from you any longer, Potter," she said, sounding very serious. "I know this may come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black is--"
"I know he's after me, ma'am," said Harry wearily, resisting the urge to lay his head down. The homework matched with the lack of sleep had begun to catch up on him. There were times he had used his personal Time-Turner just to get a few extra hours of sleep in the morning. Too many times.
"I see." Professor McGonagall nodded. "In that case, you'll understand why I've brought it up with Professor Flitwick that I don't think it's a good idea for you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the field with only your team members, it's very exposed, Potter--"
"What?" Harry gasped. "But the season's just started-- and we've got two small matches, and then the match against Hufflepuff--"
"I know," Professor McGonagall stared out the window, looking at the Quidditch field, which was barely visible through the rain. She took one look at him and sighed. "I'll... ask Madam Hooch to oversee your team's training sessions."
The weather only worsened, albeit at a steady pace, and Etta called them all to the Quidditch pitch three days before the first big match of the season-- Gryffindor-Slytherin-- for a mandatory session. She had been looking a bit sick and slightly nervous.
"Oh, great," she said when she realised they had all arrived. "Er- Madam Hooch has informed me that Gryffindor does not have a Seeker. Flint came to me earlier today, and he's told me that he refused to play Gryffindor if it's not a 'fair' win. He's said that Madam Hooch gave him permission to ask me if we were up to play, seeing as Ismelda Senox changed position on the Hufflepuff team, meaning they need time to properly train her. Tch-- ask. Right, I'll simplify it-- a, haha- we're playing Slytherin."
"What?" Steve shouted. "Again?! Can't Wood keep a Seeker?"
"He's asking that same question right now, trust me, Steve. And you wouldn't believe the headache this all has gotten me already-- look at me! I haven't had the time at all to fix my hair today-- look at this!" Etta showed off a strand of her hair; If possible, it had been even frizzier than normal. Penelope exhaled sharply. "I have been up before the sun had even rose-- I am tired, Steve! Tired! If I had the choice, we wouldn't be practicing-- we would all be taking well-earned naps!"
"But we've been practicing for Hufflepuffs usual style," Edward said airily, patting her shoulder sympathetically. "We don't know what Flint's put together this year. It could be entirely different from last year--"
"I know, I know, I know!" Etta yelled and snapped at him, "If you don't stop saying what I already know, I'm going to go mad! Just- just, everyone- on your brooms. Practice!"
The next morning, the wind had grown so strong that the trees shook, and the rain, harder than ever. It had been so dark in the castle that extra torches and candles had been lit along the corridors and in the classrooms. The Slytherin team had been looking quite smug.
"It's a shame my arm's all better, I don't feel like playing," complained Draco that afternoon. He had gotten the sling taken off earlier that morning, and had been very glum over it.
"You'll live," Harry said, doing his Arithmancy homework. Though it had been stressful, trying to keep up with the days to make sure he didn't sleep in the day of the match, and get his homework done, but he managed.
"Hey, that reminds me," said Draco suddenly, and he went searching through his bag. After a moment, he pulled out a small box of--
"Chocolates?" Harry asked, looking over the top. "How does anything reminds you of chocolates?"
Draco shrugged, and he opened the box. "It's a good brand, anyway-- La Maison du Chocolat. Muggle and Wizard. Try one-- not that one, it's got strawberry in it."
"Where'd you get them?" Harry asked, popping a small square into his mouth. He almost gasped-- he'd never tasted chocolate so delicious in his life. His aggravation had been much better in what felt like an instant.
"Hogsmeade," said Draco, staring at him with a weird sort of look on his face. "Are they good?"
"Amazing," said Harry before he could even think about it. "These are delicious- thanks for letting me have one. Oh- how much were they? And I meant- store-- what store did you get them from?"
Draco smiled. Not a smirk, or anything condescending, and not even the smile he did when something went his way-- a real, happy smile. Harry should've been used to it by now, cause he'd seen it plenty of times already... but something about it made his stomach get very fluttery, and he felt weirdly giddy.
"Don't worry about the price," Draco said, still smiling. "They're cheap. And I got them just for you-- they're yours."
"And the store?"
"Hmm... I thought I said it, but now I can't remember," and there was the smile he got whenever something went his way. "I was in and out. I'll have to show you next time we go to Hogsmeade."
"I can't go to Hogsmeade."
His smile got wider. "Oh, right, I forgot. I suppose I'll just have to buy them for you-- if you want more."
Harry scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'll pay you back every Knut you spend."
The day before the match, Harry hadn't been so fortunate with his timing. He'd slept a little too long, and had now missed two classes. He was supposed to have Ancient Runes and then Defence Against the Dark Arts at the same time- he didn't know if he'd misread or maybe if he really just messed himself up by having picked so many electives- and had already arrived late to his Ancient Runes lesson.
By time he'd finally gotten there and pulled the door open, he noticed it wasn't Professor Lupin sitting at the teacher's desk; It was Snape.
"The lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Ravenclaw. Sit down."
But Harry, dazed and confused, didn't move.
"You're not Professor Lupin," he said, squinting.
"Astute observation. He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"
But Harry had been much more determined.
"What's wrong with him? Is he alright?"
Snape's dark eyes glittered. "Nothing life-threatening." He said, looking like he'd wished it were. "Five more points from Ravenclaw, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."
Harry made his way to the empty seat beside Hermione. Snape looked around at the class.
"As I way saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far--"
"Sir," Mandy spoke up. "we can tell you what we've done so far. Boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows. We're supposed to be starting on--"
"Ten points from Ravenclaw," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information, Brocklehurst. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organisation."
"He's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said a bold Gryffindor, and there was a murmur of agreement across the classroom. Snape looked much more menacing than normal.
"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you-- I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today, we shall discuss--"
He flicked through the textbook before stopping at the very last chapter, which he, no doubt knew they hadn't covered.
"Werewolves."
"But, sir," Hermione then spoke up, looking the slightest bit aggravated. Her eyes were wide and her eyebags were evident. "We're not meant to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks--"
"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice that was unusually calm. "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not any of you. And I am telling you all the turn to page 394. Now."
With many bitter looks and sullen muttering, the class opened their books.
"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape asked.
The class had been rather silent, split between either not knowing or not wanting to answer. Hermione looked around, and sighed, before raising her hand.
"Anyone?" Asked Snape, looking right past her. His twisted smile had returned. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the bare distinction between--"
"We've told you, sir," said Parvati. "We haven't gotten as far as werewolves."
"Silence!" Snape shouted, snarling. "I never thought I'd meet a class who wouldn't even recognise a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are...."
"Well maybe if you taught us, like a teacher's supposed to, we'd know..." muttered Lisa under her breath.
"Sir, can you not see my hand? It's clearly raised," said Hermione sternly. "I can tell you. The werewolf differs from a true wolf in notable, small ways-- the snout of the werewolf is--"
"That is the second time you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said blankly. "Ten points from Gryffindor, for being an insufferable know-it-all."
Hermione went red, nearly slamming her hand down on the table, and stared at the floor. The class had all been glaring at Snape, even though probably every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all atleast once.
Ron, who called her a know-it-all atleast twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knew the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told? And you were ignoring her anyway!"
The class had been incredibly silent as Snape advanced on Ron slowly.
"Detention, Weasley," He said, his face very close to Ron's. "If I ever hear you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."
Nobody else made a sound the rest of the lesson; They all made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape walked up and down the rows of desks, overlooking the work that Professor Lupin gave them.
"Very poorly explained.... That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia.... Professor Lupin gave this an eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three..."
When the bell finally rang, Snape held them back, much to the class's dismay.
"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognise and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them Monday morning. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."
Ron had waited until they were down a completely different corridor to go on a furious rant.
"You know what that--" he called Snape something that made Hermione gasp, and Luna burst into laughter- "-- is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wings. Without magic! The damn--" he said it again, and Hermione slapped his side; Luna only laughed harder. "-- aught to get a bloody life! Not our fault his sucks!" He was breathing so hard his face had gone red, and his fists were clenched to the point it looked painful. The ends of his ears were nearly past the top of his head. "Black should've hid out in his office-- finished him off for good!"
"Padma's so lucky she had Arithmancy," Lisa said, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she helped Luna off the ground-- she was still laughing. "She won't have to do it, atleast."
Harry woke early the next morning; Albeit, not willingly. At first, he thought it was the roaring of the wind outside the window that had woken him-- that was before he felt a cold chill on the back of his neck. He hit his head on the bunk atop his from sitting up so quickly, and nearly fell off his bed, barely managing to catch himself before he fell on Sly's- empty- cage. Peeves had been floating beside his bunk, blowing hard in his ear.
"Sod off, Peeves," Harry said sharply, grabbing his wand off the bedside table. Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed through the floor, cackling.
Harry looked for his pocket watch, and had to squint to see the time. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, he got back into bed, moving Hydrus off his pillow, and tried to get back to sleep. It had been much harder than he thought it would've been, especially considering that there was a lot of sleep he had been missing out on in the first place.
The sounds of thunder overhead, the winds pounding against the walls and rattling the window, the creaking of trees in the Forbidden Forest, and even Hydrus now hissing persistently with Crookshanks, who had somehow gotten in the common room the night before, over a familiar rat. Eventually, he gave up on trying to get to sleep, and felt around for his glasses, before getting dressed and placing his Nimbus Two-thousand on his bed, quietly leaving the dormitory.
When he had gotten up the stairs, Crookshanks followed him and brushed up against his leg. "What, is Hydrus not sharing?" He asked tiredly, picking up the cat. He purred as Harry held him. "Come on, there's plenty of mice around the place, go chase them," He dropped Crookshanks outside Sir Cadogan's portrait, but he slipped back in before Harry could close it and brushed against his legs again. He supposed there was nothing to be done about it then-- he'd been given an easy out and he didn't take it.
He didn't stay in the common room long; the storm had been louder and was beginning to give him a headache. Yet Harry knew that the match wouldn't be cancelled; They were never cancelled for something as "trivial" as weather. Nonetheless, he went back downstairs, deciding it was far too early to do anything else. It would've been easy enough to get back to sleep, maybe if he held his duvet over his head.
Or so he hoped. The rat that Hydrus supposedly won while arguing with Crookshanks hadn't liked the idea of being eaten, and had been squeaking loudly and scrambling around the dorm.
If only, Harry couldn't help but think, pressing his pillow over his ears.
When ten rolled around, the girls had to come wake him up and tell him Etta said to get down to the locker rooms. They'd wished him good luck, Padma holding an umbrella that they'd be sharing.
"I wish I could bring an umbrella," he said tiredly.
"Look at the bright side," said Luna, "you probably would've lost it anyway."
And she was completely right; The whole school had been out in the stands, watching the match as usual, umbrellas gripped tightly in their hands-- but no matter how many people held on to them, the umbrellas were whipped out their hands by the sharp winds.
In the locker room, they had changed into their blueish-indigo robes and waited for Etta's pep talk, but she didn't quite get the chance to give it to them. Her hair got caught in her own eyes and mouth, as even the locker rooms had been windy, and whenever she could say anything, a loud strike of thunder would cut her off. It looked as though she sighed hopelessly, and nodded her head, wordlessly telling them that she was done trying.
The wind had been so strong that they couldn't even walk in a straight line as they went along. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the thunder and the rain in their ears. Harry could barely see through the water in his eyes, and when he managed, his glasses had too much water too; How was he meant to see the Snitch when he couldn't see in general?
The Slytherins approached from the other end of the field, their green robes nearly blending in with the grass. The Captains walked up to eachother and shook hands-- from what Harry could make out, Etta gave a forced smile while Flint gave a crooked smirk-- but only for a moment, as the wind was too strong and Flint nearly lost his broom when it got blown away. Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount your brooms." He forced his foot out the mud and swung it over his broom. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant, even though she were quite nearby-- nonetheless, the teams were off.
Harry rose quickly and wearily, his Nimbus swerving in the wind. He held it as steady as he could and flew wherever he could, squinting for the gold of the Snitch.
Within mere minutes, he had been utterly soaked in rain and so cold he were shivering. He couldn't see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He nearly flipped over the side of his broom countless times trying to avoid hitting blurred blue and green shapes brushing past him, with no idea what had been going on. He couldn't even tell if there was commentary, and the crowd had been even blurrier than the players, looking like waves of cloaks and battered umbrellas. Twice, maybe three times, Harry had nearly been thrown off by a Bludger-- his vision had been so clouded by the rain on his glasses that he couldn't see them coming-- or the occasional flying umbrella.
After a while, he lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to not fall off his broom entirely. The sky was only getting darker, as if night decided it'd wanted to come early. Harry almost knocked into multiple players, unsure of if they were teammate or opponent; It was all so blurry, and the rain so heavy, that the colours of their robes began to look vividly similar.
Suddenly, Madam Hooch's whistle blew loudly. Harry could barely make out the outline of Etta, hanging on desperately to a goalpost, beckoning him to the ground. The entire team splashed into the mud, stumbling to stand up.
"I called for a time-out, come on," Etta said breathlessly, leading them to the edge of the field to huddle underneath a large umbrella. Harry immediately took off his glasses and wiped them off.
"What's the score?"
"Fifty to thirty, I think, but we may be playing into the night if we keep at it. All of those were lucky shots-- and it's beyond me how Slytherin got thirty. We may have to leave it to Runcorn to catch the Snitch." Etta explained, wringing out her curls.
"We probably will have to-- I can barely see, even with these on," Harry said, waving his glasses.
At that very moment, Hermione appeared beside him. She was holding her cloak over her head and smiling brightly.
"Give me your glasses, Harry, quick!" He handed them to her quickly, and the team watched anticipatingly as she tapped them with her wand, saying, "Impervius!"
"There!" She said, handing the glasses back over. "They'll repel water!"
"Brilliant!" cheered Etta.
"Etta, I think my broom's out of commission," Penelope said, smacking her broom, which had been looking rather beaten. It looked like she had gotten struck by lightning and gotten revived; Her hair was blown back and the broom looked as to have been previously on fire.
"I've got it," said Roger, tapping her broom with his wand whilst muttering a 'Reparo.' The broom slowly repaired itself, looking back to normal. She looked at him in what was undoubtedly annoyance.
Hermione's spell had done the trick; Harry may have still been cold and drenched, but he could see just right. Driven with determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, looking every-which-way for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, and zooming past Runcorn, who looked very confused, flying the opposite direction.
There was another clap of thunder, followed directly by forked lightning. The match wasn't getting any less dangerous, and the rain didn't look like it'd let up for a while... he'd have to catch the Snitch quickly--
He turned, to make sure there wasn't any gold flying back behind him, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely. The silhouette of an enormous, shaggy black dog, had been imprinted against the sky, sitting motionless in the topmost empty row of seats.
Harry's hands slipped on his broom handle as he tried to regain his focus, and he fell a few feet. Shaking his bangs out his eyes, he looked back into the stands. The dog was gone.
"Harry!" came Roger's voice, sounding as though he were trying to call to him from much further away than Harry knew he was, "Behind you!"
Harry turned as quickly as he could. Runcorn had been soaring unsteadily, her hair slapping her own face, and a tiny speck of gold sparkled in the space between them.
Confused but now focused, Harry made a dash for the Snitch.
He reached out his hand, and the Snitch had been a finger's length away-- he had noticed, momentarily, that something odd was happening. The stadium was becoming eerily silent. Harry nearly strained himself, still trying to wrap his fingers around the Snitch, when, suddenly, it had been completely silent. The rain had stopped, as did the wind and the thunder. As if he had gone deaf in seconds time; What was going on?
The rain grew harder-- more solid, until they had become icicles. Harry couldn't avoid them, and threw his free hand above his head to protect himself.
Then, a familiar wave of cold sickness swept over him and his headache returned, growing more and more painful by the second. The weird, draining feeling swelled in his chest again, but he tried his best to ignore it. If he could help it at all, he'd catch the Snitch. Yet it had suddenly been too out of reach, and was falling to the ground with retracted wings. He slowly stood up on his broom, using all his might to force his arm as far as it would go, and the Snitch nearly grazed his finger, but before he knew it, he was falling. And the Snitch wasn't in his hand. Suddenly-- he heard it; Someone was screaming, crying, and pleading at the same time.. He couldn't tell who... a woman, but he didn't recognise the voice...
"No! Not my babies! No!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now..."
"No! Please, no- take me instead, please--"
A numbing mist was filling Harry's mind, and he heard a sharp 'Crucio!'
Where was he? He needed to help whoever it had just been casted on. He had to. Crucio wasn't a good spell, and he knew that... so why couldn't he move? The woman's cries merged with her screams, growing louder and louder, more and more pain-filled, and Harry could've sworn he heard something like a baby crying.
Why was he falling? Who was screaming? Why were glass shards hitting his face? No-- not glass-- ice. Why was ice hitting his face?
The person who had casted the 'Crucio' was laughing, and the woman was screaming. The baby's cries only grew louder and louder, until--
He couldn't hear anything at all. For a long while, it felt. But, slowly, as his ears stopped ringing, he could hear people speaking.
"-- let go of him,"
"We've already tried that, you nit, telling him won't work,"
"You should've been the one that caught him if you care so much-- he's not badly hurt."
"Yeah, thanks-- but you're both hurt nonetheless, you bloody--"
Harry heard voices whispering, but couldn't make any sense of them. He didn't know where he was, or how he'd ended up there, or what he'd been doing before. He wasn't in pain, but there had a sharp pain throughout his entire body at the same time.
"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life..."
Scariest? Scary...
Right. The screaming, the crying; The laughter; The cold feeling.
Harry's eyes snapped open. He couldn't tell-- but it looked like he was in the hospital wing. He was sat rather awkwardly in a chair-- a breathing chair- no, a person; he was in someone's lap.
"Give him his glasses."
Someone dropped a pair of round glasses in his hand. That's right-- he did wear glasses. How could he forget that?
He placed them on his face, and suddenly, the world, once a blur of colours, was clear. Draco had been the one holding him. His hair was sticking to his head, still dripping water; It was darker than the blond it usually was. Most of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had been standing around them, covered head-to-toe in mud. Padma, Hermione, Luna, Ron, and Lisa had been standing far off behind, looking like they'd just been swimming.
"Let him go, Malfoy, he's awake now." Edward said, nodding towards the nearest Infirmary bed. With much effort, Harry got up and forced his legs to walk until he was on the bed. He was weirdly breathless, and there was a dull, aching pain in the back of his mind.
"What happened?" He asked, pushing his bangs out his eyes. Draco took the bed beside him, and before anyone knew it, he was asleep the moment he got comfortable enough.
"You fell off your broom," Roger said, "Must've been about fifty to... sixty feet? Real lucky that Malfoy here caught you. Well, as lucky as you can be-- he fell off his broom when he did-- got lucky himself, didn’t fall a whole lot. Bloke's right n' tired."
"We thought you were both done for by then," Steve admitted.
Hermione, who had been standing at Harry's bedside, made a small croaking sound. It looked like she had been crying-- and a lot.
"Did we lose the match?" Harry asked.
"Probably," Steve said. "However you look at it. Slytherin's Seeker didn't catch the Snitch. She got afraid when she saw the dementors and flew into the Hufflepuff stands. Flint's been forced to call a rematch. We're back on for our normal play schedule. Neither team caught the Snitch, most of our brooms had gotten struck by lightning, and nobody really knew what was going in until the dementors came on the field." He explained.
"Where's Etta? And Edward?"
"Etta was... er, struck by lightning like Penelope. Penny's going to be alright- she got healed immediately, see, but Etta had been hanging on to the goalpost when she got hit. Not even immediate healing can help her-- that thing's pure metal. You know, electricity currents and metal and stuff. Dunno how she's gonna handle it when she wakes up." Roger said, turning to a bed on the other side of the room; Etta looked like some kind of short-haired bride of Frankenstein, with many lines that looked like feathers running up her arm, and but she had been snoring loudly and drooling as if she were perfectly fine.
"An' Edward, he... well, he fell off his broom too, when the Dementors stormed the field," said Steve. "Just, er, unlike you, he didn't get really lucky... right, he didn't fall from really high, but he- er- he- he--" He was suddenly down to a whisper, "-- he might've hit his head really hard- he landed in the stands."
"Think this is the worst game any team's ever seen,” said Penelope uncertainly. "For both teams. Six people stuck in the hospital wing, one having passed out, four electrocuted, and one of them with long-term serious injuries. Oh, poor Etta. I think she might cry- she's been growing out her hair for years. And her broom lit on fire, it's beyond repair... it was a custom too..."
Harry's head dropped to his knees, and he put his hands in his hair. Padma put her hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, you always catch the Snitch, we're not going to hold you responsible for this one time where you didn't."
"She's right, you know, nobody blames you at all. Considering the weather, the way the game went, and how you got attacked by dementors again-- I'd like to see someone try to make that your fault." Ron agreed.
Harry, still feeling weirdly ill, nodded, laying his head on his pillow.
A few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey came along to tell the team to leave if they weren't injured.
"Don't worry about a thing, Harry," said Penelope. "We're gonna be back when Madam Pomfrey lets us." She ruffled his hair encouragingly, before joining Steve and Roger out the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron, Luna, Lisa, and Padma joined Hermione at Harry's bedside.
"Dumbledore was very angry when you fell," Luna said, as Hermione pulled over a chair. "I don't think anyone's ever seen him like that before."
Hermione nodded, casting a warming charm over all of them. "He was screaming when Malfoy was carrying you, and went calm for maybe a second to tell him to bring you here, and was right back to it. He casted a Patronus at the dementors, they left the stadium right away.... He was positively furious they'd come onto the grounds."
"He sent Professor McGonagall to come with you two incase he fell on the way," Ron gave Draco a look out the side of his eye. Harry couldn't tell if it was appreciation or not, but then he spoke again. "She only just left. And Malfoy, he- he even started crying and everything. Everyone thought you were..."
He trailed off, but Harry wasn't quite listening much anyhow. He could only think about the crying voice. The person who got Crucioed... he took a glance around, before he noticed they were all looking at him so anxiously that he couldn't help but ask.
"Did anyone get my broom?"
Lisa, who had yet to say a word, went pale. She was clutching a bag tightly in her hands. "Um..."
"What?" Harry asked, looking around.
"Well-- when you fell off your broom, it couldn't fight the wind," Hermione said hesitantly, when Lisa couldn't form words.
"And?"
"And-- it hit-- oh, Harry, I'm sorry-- it hit the Whomping Willow."
Harry had probably gone red, by how hot his face felt.
"I'll have to look at buying a new broom soon," He mumbled. "I guess."
"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," said Lisa hoarsely. She lifted up the bag, turned it on its side just enough to look into. It was full of splinters-- nothing but splinters. He couldn’t have even found what was once the words Nimbus Two Thousand anywhere. Just splinters.
Harry, no matter how much he expected it, felt even worse.