Paranoid Much
It seemed as if Ron and Hermione's friendship had ended the next morning, but neither could agree on why. Ron was determined that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, who had mysteriously disappeared, while Hermione refused to say anything about it, suddenly having something else to do. Harry felt like Hydrus had more to do with it than it seemed, as he remembered the dead rat Hydrus had brought him, but Ron was far too rooted in the idea it was all Crookshanks' fault to listen, and Hermione didn't want to hear anything of it. Draco would listen, whenever Harry was verging on going mental and needed to talk, and though he couldn't care less about it, it still helped; Padma and Lisa couldn't agree on whether Hydrus or Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and Luna was very determined that he’d either died very peacefully for being very old, or gotten some kind of comeuppance.
Ron had taken the loss harder than anyone could've guessed he would.
"Come on, Ronniekins, you were always talking about how boring Scabbers was," tried Fred. "He's been off-colour for ages anyway, he would've kicked the bucket sooner or later. It was better for him to snuff it quickly-- one swallow, right-- he wouldn't've even felt a thing."
"Fred!" shouted Ginny.
"All he did was eat and sleep, we all knew he wasn't that good," shrugged George.
"He's got a point,” agreed Padma. “Scabbers was kind of... how do I word this nicely? Lazy, is... the best way I can put it."
"He bit Goyle that one time! Remember, Harry? Malfoy?" Ron insisted, turning to look at them with ears pressed flat to his head.
"That did happen," nodded Harry, elbowing Draco, who sighed. "Yes, Goyle was complaining about how he probably got infected for days afterward. He was practically begging to be sent to Madam Pomfrey."
"Scabbers' finest hour," said Fred, though he was unable to keep a straight face. "Let the faded scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute.... Oh, come on Ron, get down to Hogsmeade and buy yourself a new rat! You never liked Scabbers anyway, what's the point of moaning and being so dramatic?"
Ron went very pink and turned away from them. He muttered quietly, “I- well, I didn’t want him to die...”
"Er-- I could let you ride the Firebolt after practice, if it'll cheer you up." Harry said, and Ron stared at him in disbelief. "Really? Will you let me try and block a few goals on it?"
"For sure."
When practice started that evening, Madam Hooch, who was still overseeing the Ravenclaw practices, was just as impressed with the Firebolt as the rest of the team. She took it in her hands before takeoff and gave the team her professional opinion.
"Look at the balance on it! If the Nimbus series has a fault, it's a slight list to the tail end-- you often find they develop a drag after a few years. It's a shock that you flew your old broom so long, Crocker, with how old it is. The handle's been updated too-- a bit slimmer than the Cleansweeps... reminds me of the old Silver Arrows; A pity they've stopped making them. I first learned to fly on one, and quite a fine old broom it was..."
She continued on reminiscing for a bit of time, before Etta took the Firebolt out her hands. "She's not wrong. It's a brilliant broomstick. Did you get it by owl-order or did you get it back?" Etta asked, feeling it once over before handing it back to Harry.
"I got it back." He nodded.
"Awesome. That's pretty much luck authenticity, right, Pen'? I mean, he got the broom back, we've got a match... it's a Firebolt..."
Madam Hooch went on her way to sit in the stadium with Ron, and the team gathered around in a circle to listen to Etta's final speech before the match tomorrow. The Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game had been moved up in place of the match with Hufflepuff, seeing as the schedule had been practically tampered with as a whole.
"So, Ismene's still going to be playing Seeker. They say she's got an arm injury, but she's good enough to play. We don't want to pressure you Harry, whatsoever, but this is our second-last chance to get the Quidditch Cup. We're going to be playing Slytherin properly in place of the final match, and if you can catch the Snitch, we'll be tied with them for first again." Etta said, before lowering her voice. "I've overheard Flint telling off Runcorn about her shoddy skills for weeks now. If we're lucky, that troll will tolerate her long enough and she'll still be Seeker in time for the final. Not that it matters-- any broom that any Slytherin Seeker 'll have will look like an absolute joke next to the Firebolt.." she got a mischievous grin for a moment, before standing up straight. "If everyone's ready, we ought to get practising now!"
The moment Harry kicked off from the ground using the Firebolt, he knew this was, for certain, one of the best broomsticks he'd ever flown. It turned with the slightest touch, and he almost would've thought it obeyed his thoughts more than it did his hold-- it sped across the field at such a speed that he could barely tell left from right, the stadium suddenly a large blur. Penelope had let out a horrified scream when she was just barely fast enough to dodge Harry, who'd gone into an unbelievably controlled dive, and he was able to only brush the grass for long enough to kick off again, rising back into the air at a faster rate than the Nimbus Two-Thousand ever managed.
"Harry! I'm letting the Snitch out!" Etta shouted.
Harry turned and managed to outstrip a Bludger to the goal posts, and was barely able to see the Snitch dart out from behind Etta-- he blamed the lack of sight on his glasses, of course. He had the Snitch in his hands within seconds. The team cheered loud enough for him to hear even with how far away he was.
He let the Snitch go again and gave it a minute-long headstart before going after it. He spotted it spinning around the back of Roger's broomstick and made a beeline for it-- he had caught it yet again.
It was the easiest and best practice they'd had; The rest of the team, awestruck by the presence of the Firebolt, performed their best moves without fault, and by the time they landed on the ground for the end of practice, Etta had only good things to say.
"Not a thing is going to break us! Tomorrow's game is ours!" She said, clapping everyone on the back. "Ah- Harry, you've solved your Dementor problem, right?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded, thinking of the weak wisp of wind he had as a Patronus, wishing it were stronger. But it was like Lupin said... all he needed was a moment to get away, and it did that just fine... and he had managed something at all.
"The Dementors won't turn up again anyway, Et. Dumbledore would send them right back to Azkaban." Penelope said, voice full of certainty.
"It's never bad to be safer than sorry." Etta said, staring at the lines up her arm, and she shook Penelope happily. "But, anyway-- you all did amazing! Let's head back up to the tower... I think we’ve earned an early night."
"I'm staying out for a bit-- Ron's getting a go on the Firebolt." Harry told her, while the rest of the team went off to the locker rooms.
"Alright. Just make sure you tell Madam Hooch. I'll never hear the end of it if she finds out you were out here mostly on your own." Etta said, and Harry made way for Ron, who vaulted the barrier to the stands. Madam Hooch had fallen asleep in her seat.
"Here you go," said Harry, handing Ron the Firebolt. "'m too tired to shoot-- you can just do whatever."
With an obvious look of excitement on his face, Ron mounted the broom and kicked off into the darkness quickly. Harry went to sit beside the snoring Madam Hooch, debating whether or not to wake her, but she had awoke on her own a short while after night had fallen. She told off Harry and Ron for not waking her and insisted they get back up to the castle, refusing to believe that they’d tried to wake her already. So, they hadn’t, but Harry did consider it.
Harry took back the Firebolt while he and Ron left the shadowy stadium, discussing the Firebolt's superiority compared to other brooms. They were just about halfway to the castle when Harry caught something that nearly made his heart skip a beat-- a pair of eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Before he’d even thought about it, he stopped dead in his tracks, holding his breath, though his heart was drumming in his chest.
"What's wrong?" asked Ron. Harry had to force his arm to move to point at the eyes, which he could've sworn were glowing.
"Lumos!" Ron muttered, taking out his wand swiftly.
A beam of light lit up their surroundings, and it took a moment for it all to be illuminated; Crouching among the leaves of a tree's branches and budding leaves was none other than Crookshanks.
Harry took in a breath of air to let his heart rate return to a normal pace before crouching down and reaching out his arms. "Come on, Crookshanks, I bet Mione's missing you,"
Instead of going into his arms like Harry hoped, Crookshanks vanished into the forest with a single swish of his ginger tail.
"Dumb cat..." grumbled Ron furiously. "'Mione's still letting him wander about wherever he likes-- probably washing down Scabbers with a couple birds..."
"Ron, you didn't even like Scabbers," Harry sighed.
"Maybe not, but I didn't want him to get eaten..." Ron murmured, going pink and frowning. "He was the only pet I ever got to keep to myself. And he was a good pet, too..."
Harry didn't reply that time, and instead clapped Ron on the back, as a final wave of relief spread over him; For a moment, he would've thought the eyes had belonged to the Grim that had been "destined" to come after him for months now. He'd rather not admit that, however. He didn't feel as though he was breathing until they reached the entrance hall, which, in contrast to outside, was a flash of light and what Harry could've considered a breath of semi-fresh air.
When Harry went down the breakfast the next morning, all the boys from the dormitory seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard. Almost every head in the Great Hall turned in his direction when Harry entered, and there was an exited murmuring all across the hall. Harry was delighted to see the shock on Oliver Wood's face.
"Hello, o' great Harry," Padma said jokingly when he sat down. "How quickly do you think he'll catch the Snitch, Lisa? Six minutes? Four?"
"Maybe he'll have it over before it even starts." Lisa said, shrugging, before humming. "I bet you, maybe, five galleons on that. I want to change what I said though-- I 'dunno how fast the Firebolt flies-- um, hey! That's my shoulder you're pressing on!"
People from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables had been coming over to get a good look at the broomstick, which had been placed on the table, and someone was just too short to see over Lisa's head. Runcorn's face had gone a shade of pink when she saw Harry enter, and it was still so when he turned around to give her a smug glare.
"Still can't believe you were allowed to have it back right before a match," said Draco, taking a seat beside him and staring at the Firebolt with evident admiration.
"I reckon it was a good idea. Or maybe you're scared it's too out of your league?" Harry asked mockingly.
"Out of my league? I'm not even a Seeker. I could score more goals than points you could get from Snitches you catch."
"You wanna make a bet on that, Draco? I've got a good couple galleons waiting on me, if you're up to it," encouraged Padma, jumping into the conversation. "unless you think that was a little too brave to say? I'm all for a bit of lolly."
Draco looked at her almost questioningly, but Harry could see he was forcing back a smile.
A quarter to eleven, Etta came to collect Harry so the whole team could get to the locker rooms. The weather couldn't possibly be any more different than the match Ravenclaw had to fill in for Gryffindor. It was a clear day with a light breeze; There was a buzz in Harry's stomach, the kind that could only be brought by a Quidditch match. Even from the locker room, he could hear the rest of the school moving into and around the stadium. He'd stuck his wand in the secret pocket within his Quidditch robes, but he could only hope he wouldn't need it.
"If you see a dementor getting close, get to the ground immediately, alright?" Etta said to Harry as the team prepared to leave the locker rooms. “Oh- unless they’re at the ground! Actually-- if you see a dementor at all, go straight for the teachers’ stands. If the dementors go anywhere, the last place ‘ll be anywhere near Dumbledore, after what happened the last time they tried.”
They walked out onto the field to the regular excited applause. Gryffindor had yet to come out. When they had, however, Harry was surprised to see their Seeker, Adeline Ismene, was a girl who looked no older than Ginny, and a bit shorter, infact, but he was sure she was older than he was.
"Wood, Crocker, on and shake hands," said Madam Hooch briskly, and Etta gave wood a malicious smile, much like the one she bared at practice. “Good luck,” she said merrily. Wood went red in the face.
"Mount your brooms on my whistle... three-- two -- one--"
Harry kicked off into the air and was soaring above everyone else in seconds. He squinted around for the Snitch while the commentary-- provided by Lee Jordan, as usual-- went through one ear and out the other.
"They're off, and the big excitement for this match is the Firebolt being used by non other than Ravenclaw's Harry Potter! According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship--"
"Jordan, would you mind keeping your head in the stadium and telling us what's going on in the match?" Professor McGonagall interrupted.
"Right you are, Professor, just giving a bit of background information... the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and--"
"Jordan!"
"Alright, alright! Katie Bell of Gryffindor in possession, heading for the goalposts..."
Harry flew right past a Bludger sent his way, gazing around for the Snitch, noticing that Ismene had been unsubtly following him. She wasn't a bad Seeker, he'd say-- she was able to keep a good enough speed and she was observant enough to make a mad dash across the field and just barely cut him off, making him change course.
"Show her how the Firebolt really works, Harry!" shouted Roger as he flew past to catch a Bludger aiming for Penelope's head.
It didn't take much to urge the Firebolt forward, and Ismene fell behind in a short amount of time, her dashes not even close enough to do anything. Just as Katie Bell scored the first goal, he saw it; The Snitch was fluttering just above the ground, near one of the barriers.
Harry dived immediately; Ismene saw what he was doing and went after him, but with the large gap between them and the fact she wasn't on a Firebolt too, it seemed obvious-- Harry was going faster than he realised, but the excitement bubbling in his stomach, he didn't care. Dives were what he was best at. He was ten feet away, and the Snitch was close enough for him to make out its wings--
Then a Bludger, having come out of nowhere, came pelting right at him; Harry spun off course, just barely missing it, but in those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished. There was a loud "Ooooooh" of disappointment from what sounded like half the stadium, but a show of applause for one of the Weasley twins from Gryffindor's end. Harry swore under his breath before kicking off once more.
"Gryffindor leads eighty points to fifty, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now, see that turn-- Ismene's Cleansweep's just no match for it... the Firebolt's precision, balance is really noticeable in these long--"
"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS OR ARE YOU COMMENTATING? GET ON WITH THE GAME!"
Gryffindor had made another two shots before Steve was able to get a shot past Wood. If Ismene managed to catch the Snitch before Harry, Gryffindor would win by a landslide. Harry dropped lower, scanning the field frantically- and then-- a glint of gold, the fluttering of tiny wings-- circling the Gryffindor goal post.
Harry took no time at all to accelerate, eyes fixated on what almost looked like a little golden dot-- but just as he reached out for it, Ismene came out of nowhere, knocking him off course- Harry was barely able to avoid her. He could only hope their collision didn't ruin her arm. Or maybe he hoped it would've, just so she wouldn't be able to block him unless she wanted to go flying off her broomstick.
Etta caught his eye as he steadied himself, and she gave a sharp nod Ismene's way just as she kicked away the Quaffle; Ismene was rubbing her arm and groaning, though she still looked quite determined. The Snitch had vanished again.
Harry got an idea and made the sharpest turn he could; Ismene sped right after him, spinning on her side to make the turn, and Harry knew for certain his idea was correct. She decided to chase him instead of the Snitch. Well, that was fine-- if she wanted to tail him, she'd simply have to take the consequences...
He took a dive, and Ismene, tricked into thinking he saw the Snitch, dove right after him; He pulled out his dive quickly and was in the air again, and Ismene failed to do the same, rolling in the grass. Right then, did Harry see it for the third time now-- the Snitch was glittering far above Ravenclaw's end of the field.
He went right for it, and Ismene scrambled to kick off the ground. However, her speed just couldn't compare-- Harry may as well have already had it in his hands, getting closer and closer every passing second-- but then--
Behind him, Ismene shrieked, heading for the stands; Distracted, Harry looked all over the stadium, and he saw what scared her almost immediately--
Three, black, hooded dementors were looking up at him.
He didn't bother to take a moment and think-- fishing his wand out his robes, he whipped out his wand and shouted-- "EXPECTOPATRONUM!"
Instead of the usual tiny wisp of air, something large flew out from his wand, but he couldn't tell what it was. He didn't need to look back to make sure it got to the dementors-- he had a Snitch to catch. Switching the hand his wand was in, he reached out his now free hand and just managed to get his fingers around the small, struggling Snitch, and its wings fell to the side; Harry was just able to catch it before it fell to the ground, though he couldn't avoid the spin the Firebolt did to steady out.
Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, but it went right through Harry's ear and out the other, the events of everything still setting in. Before he could move, the entire team was hugging him so hard he nearly fell off his broom. Down below, he could make out the cheers of maybe half the school.
"My seeker! You hear that, Wood?! Mine-- the best! " Etta shouted, squealing. Steve, Roger and Edward had been clapping eachothers hands excitedly, and Penelope had been doing spins and twirls on her broomstick, singing some song shrilly and out of key. Danial Green had been shouting louder than anyone else, one of his arms slung over Harry's shoulder. Somehow, the team made their way to the ground.
The moment they landed, Harry didn't even have the time to stand up before Roger and Danial heaved him up on their shoulders. Handfuls of Ravenclaw supporters had been sprinting out to the field, and Harry was barely able to get his Firebolt before it got trampled by the cheering crowd.
He couldn't even make out what everyone was saying, they were all speaking over eachother; He was eventually let down, and Hermione was the first to engulf him in a tight hug. "Brilliant! Utterly Brilliant, Harry!"
Ron had trapped Harry in a tight headlock right after Hermione released him, and Padma, Luna, Lisa, and Draco pushed through the crowd to get over.
"Excuse me-- that was quite a Patronus, Harry," said Professor Lupin, making his way through the crowd, looking both shaken and pleased.
"I didn't feel a thing! They didn't affect me at all!" Harry said excitedly.
"Ah-- that would be because, well, they weren't Dementors," Professor Lupin hesitated, and the crowd hushed. "Here- it's better if you see come and see for yourself--"
He led Harry out of the crowd until the edge of the field came into view.
"Miss Runcorn is going to be in detention for a long while," Professor Lupin said.
Lying in a heap on the ground was Runcorn, Daphne Greengrass- a girl who Harry didn't know very well- Katherine Spinks, and a boy he didn't recognise, almost all of them trying to get out of long robes.
"Genius plan, Ameliane. Just brilliant!" muttered Spinks, and her head popped out from underneath her own robes. Greengrass had passed out entirely, and Runcorn had presumably been on the boy's shoulders, for they were tangled up in the same robe; She wasn’t trying to free herself as he was, instead trying to wake up Greengrass. Professor McGonagall had been standing over them, her face red with fury.
"An unworthy trick!" she was shouting, "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the game! Detention for all of you-- two weeks! And fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah-- here he comes now!"
If anything could've been the end to the game, it was best this. Draco had been the first through the once more growing crowd, and pulled Harry close enough so that their conversation would be mostly unheard.
"You and that stupid Gryffindork bravery of yours-- I wonder how you aren't one of them, sometimes,"
"Well, that 'stupid Gryffindork bravery' is what caught me the Snitch-- and now I know I can cast a Patronus! What was it?"
"Draco! Off, off! He was my best friend first!" Padma cheered, going to wrap Harry in a hug, before Draco could answer. Luna and Lisa were right behind her, Lisa jumping in the way and narrowly giving Harry a kiss on the forehead.
"That was awesome! But how dare you-- do you know how much money I owe Padma now? Ugh- still awesome! Holy--"
"Woo! Come on," shouted Etta, who had fought her way over. "We're having a party in the Ravenclaw common room! The seventh years are gonna get us the good drinks!"
Harry was lifted onto the shoulders of Roger and Danial once again, carried out of the stadium and back up to the castle.
The Quidditch cup was already in sight, it felt-- the party went on all day and well into the night; Even students from other houses joined in. Fred and George had disappeared around midnight, when the snacks were mostly gone and the drinks were getting rather empty, and reappeared in a very short amount of time with armfuls of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and many drinks Harry assumed were from Hogsmeade's other inn, which most of them weren't allowed to drink, as well as several bags filled to their rims of Honeydukes candies. Padma had been among the first to leap at them, reaching for the Jelly Slugs.
"A little secret of ours," the two would say whenever someone asked how they managed to get all of it. Fred snorted into his butterbeer once, smiling largely. "Barman was knocked out, so we went ahead and got some Firewhisky, bit of mead, y'know, good stuff. Might've paid."
The only person who was in sight but hadn't joined the festivities was Hermione, who'd been pushed along in the crowd. There were too many people in the way for her to leave, assumedly. She'd been sitting silently in the corner, eyeing the stairs, waiting for enough people to leave so that she had a clear path out. Harry broke away from the table where the Weasley twins had started juggling empty drink bottles and found his way over.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione denied in a strangely high-pitched voice, refusing to look at him. "I'm glad you won, and I'm even happier you could produce a Patronus, but I have homework I need to get done by Monday. And so do you."
"I'm not going to miss it as long as it's not from Snape."
Suddenly, Hermione groaned. "Harry, you're the only the only one who wants me to join. You were quicker to forgive me than the others... I mean, I know that's just how you are, and- and thank you for wanting me to join... but really, I need to go do my homework." She stood up as the way to the door cleared up more. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry. Goodnight." She had left before he could say goodnight back.
"Where's Granger going?" asked Draco, appearing behind him.
"To her common room, I'd guess." Harry said, still looking after her. "She said she's got homework to do... actually, I think I'll turn in for the night. You should go back to your common room soon, it's getting late. Er-- goodnight. "
The only person in the dorm had been Anthony, eating a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "Hey Haz. You're going to bed early too?"
"Yeah, I was starting to get too tired-- wouldn't want to collapse in the middle of the party," Harry said briskly, climbing into his bed, pulling the curtain shut. He was still in his Quidditch robes, but he'd change out of them later, when he was the only one awake.
He heard their other dormmates, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, enter the room and climb into their respective beds, and he even heard Professor Flitwick all the way in the common room, scolding everyone and telling the students to go to sleep late into the night.
For some reason, it didn't feel like he ever fell asleep; But he did, and he knew he did, because he had a dream-- it was strange, and though he had a lot of strange dreams, this one was particularly weird.
He was walking in the forest with the Firebolt hung over his shoulder, following something silver and misty. He could've sworn he knew what is, but the word had slipped from his mind. It's flying, he spotted, watching it glide in and out of view, just sparing him enough time to tell that it had a shape. He didn't quite care for it, but something just made him want-- no, need-- to know whatever it was.
But the faster he moved, as did his quarry. At some point, he'd broken into a run, though he only realised so after he nearly tripped over his own foot for the third time.
"Wait!" He shouted, watching as it had gotten so far away that he could only rely on the fog trying to keep up to know where to go. When he finally caught it, in the middle of a clearing, he couldn't make out its shape. He inched closer for a better look, but--
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOO!"
Harry woke as if he had been hit in the face, and, sweaty and tired, tried to feel along the wall to find where he was. Someone was screaming in the common room.
"What's going on?" asked Michael, turning on the lamp. It made things a lot easier, and when they all had gone out to see what was wrong, Ron, who had been among the group of many that planned to stay the night, had been looking after the door in utter shock. "He-- he..."
"Who, Weasley? Who ?" asked Terry, grabbing Ron's shoulders. It was only now that Harry realised the front half of Ron's robes were mostly shredded.
"B- Black-- Sirius Black, he-- he-- and, and he had claws or something, and..." He trailed off before pointing at Harry as if he were the answer. "Your- y- your snake, Hydrus, he... and, and--"
"Weasley, how about you take a minute?" asked a sixth year, urging Ron to one of the armchairs. The other students, most of which Ravenclaw students that came to see what the problem was were looking at Ron as if he had gone mental.
"I- I know what I saw! Harry's snake had Scabbers, and he- he came to hide in my robes-- b- but then-- Black came out of nowhere and starting ripping up my robes!" He explained, but it didn't stop the crazy looks; Infact, they increased. Sirius Black, in the common room, and all he went for was a rat?
"Maybe he needs another minute," said Amanda uncertainly.
"Or another ten minutes," shrugged Sue Li.
"Maybe someone should give him a sleeping draught?" suggested a fifth year.
"Quiet, all of you!” roared Penelope. “Weasley, how are we supposed to believe that Sirius Black actually took your rat when he's a wanted serial killer of, I don't know, not rats? I mean, I don't think he'd decided your rat is special."
"You don't get it!" Ron denied. His ears had gone a bright pink. "I know what I saw! Look at my robes-- this doesn't just happen, I'm telling you!"
"Ron, you've been telling everyone that Hermione's cat ate Scabbers for, like, weeks-- but now you're convinced Hydrus is helping Black, who now has your stupid rat?" asked Lisa, sounding irritated.
"No-- I was wrong, I- I should've listened to Harry. Crookshanks didn't have Scabbers-- Hydrus did! And now Black's gotten in the Tower! You- you’re telling me none of you are - no one is worried about that?"
The common room had gone admittedly still. It was not everyday you heard someone claim Sirius Black had gotten into the common room; It wasn't everyday you heard Ron admit to being wrong, either. But then, there was a burst of noise-- many in denial, many scared at the thought of Black knowing the password, and even a few looking at Harry sideways, as if he himself were the one to let Black in.
"What is going on in here?"
Professor Flitwick had brought it upon himself to figure out what the racket was. He was much smaller than even the first years, but it was something to take serious when he was angry enough to bring the entire room to silence.
"I get the excitement, but it does not take this much to show it! Where's Miss Clearwater?"
"Professor, I've been trying to get them to calm down! Weasley's just had an accident, and--"
"IT WASN'T AN 'ACCIDENT!'" Ron bellowed. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS RAVAGING MY ROBES!"
Professor Flitwick looked at him just as everyone else had been.
"How would he have even gotten into the common room, Weasley? Have you any proof other than that?"
"Ask him!" Ron demanded, pointing a shaky finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's portrait.
Professor Flitwick rolled his eyes tiredly, but pushed the portrait open and went back outside. The entire common room had gone silent, listening with bated breath.
"Sir Cadogan, did you let a man enter the tower?"
"Certainly, my dearest professor!" cried Sir Cadogan, almost sounding proud.
There was a stunning silence, inside and outside, and the air was so tense it was suffocating.
"Why would you do that?" asked Professor Flitwick. "The password--"
"He had it!" declared Sir Cadogan. "Had a snake tell him the whole week’s, infact!”
Professor Flitwick re-entered the common room, looking tinier than normal.
"Which person--" he started, looking rather pale. "-- has... Mr Potter...”
“Nothing,” Harry said at once. “I had nothing to do with that.”