As the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff approached, Oliver Wood was making the Gryffindors have almost daily practices, even as the weather continued to be awful. It was raining almost constantly now, leaving the Gryffindor team soaked through after every practice. Poor Madam Hooch was having to sit in the stands to watch every evening, only slightly protected by an umbrella charm.

“Hufflepuff’s got a new Seeker,” Oliver told them two days before the match as everyone got dressed back into their school robes, hair dripping wet.

“Who’re we playing?” asked Angelina from where she was patting her braids dry beside George.

“Cedric Diggory.”

“He’s that tall, good-looking one, isn’t he?” said Angelina, giggling with Alicia and Katie.

Katie Bell nodded in agreement, giggling behind her hands, cheeks pink. “He’s proper fit.”

“Yeah and that’s about all he’s got going for him. He’s fit but he’s too thick to put two and two together,” said Fred, rolling his eyes.

“Regardless of how attractive he is or not, Diggory is a good flyer! He’s an excellent Seeker and the Hufflepuff team are at least better than the Ravenclaws!” exclaimed Oliver, going red in the face. “We’ve got to win!”

Fred, looking slightly alarmed, patted Oliver’s back. “Oliver, mate. Calm down before I have to go get Percy to sort you out,” said Fred. “We’ll be fine. I’m sure we can beat Hufflepuff easily.”

¤¤¤

The day before the match, the weather escalated to its utmost worst. The whole castle was absolutely freezing, a draught blowing through the castle and leaving Hari shivering in every lesson as the rain battered the windows fiercely.

Hari had to dart repeatedly away from Oliver’s attempts to give Hari tips, only just managing to arrive at Defence Against the Dark Arts class on time as people were starting to file into the classroom. He jogged over to catch up and slipped inside with Draco, moving to sit at their usual seat near the front.

Ron was telling Hari about a strange dream he had the previous night when the door to the classroom burst open. Hari turned around in his seat to smile at Professor Lupin, only to find Professor Snape waltzing inside instead, dressed head to toe in black as usual and pointing his wand at the windows to pull the shades down at once. It left the room eerily dark as he moved to stand at the front of the lesson.

Hari raised his hand. “Uh, sir? Where’s… Professor Lupin?” he asked without bothering to wait to be called on.

“He says he is too ill to be teaching today,” said Snape icily. “And five points from Gryffindor for talking out of turn.”

“What’s wrong with him, sir?” asked Dean curiously a few desks behind.

“Nothing of any of your concern,” he snapped. “And another five points from Gryffindor, Thomas.”

“As Professor Lupin has not given me a list of what topics you have covered, today we will—what, Granger?”

Hermione put her hand down. “Please, sir, we’ve done boggarts, kappas, Red Caps and grindylows and we were about to start—”

“Regardless, today we will be studying werewolves.”

Hermione raised her hand again, but Snape insistently ignored her, flicking through to the back of their textbook in search of the topic. Draco glanced sideways at Hermione before raising his own hand, clearing his throat. Snape’s eyes rolled over to Draco and he reluctantly called on him.

“We weren’t due to start werewolves yet. We’re only moving onto hinkypunks,” Draco said matter-of-factly. Hermione gave Draco a grateful smile, clearly having wanted to say the same thing.

“Turn to page 394 in your textbooks,” said Snape. The class reluctantly began flipping through their textbooks, many scowling up at Snape. “And Malfoy? We are reading about werewolves whether any of you like it or not.”

As Professor Snape started talking about the difference between werewolves and regular wolves, Draco leaned over to whisper in Hari’s ear, “I think he’s in a bad mood for some reason. He’s only this mean when he’s pissed off.”

“So, half the time, then,” replied Hari bluntly. Draco grinned, breathing out through his nose heavily in a silent laugh.

“You have a point there. But he’s worse than usual,” Draco replied under his breath.

“If you could keep the flirting to the minimum while I am teaching?” deadpanned Professor Snape, moving to stand in front of Hari and Draco’s desk. Hari’s eyes widened as his cheeks burned and Draco bowed his head, cheeks faintly pink with embarrassment. Several snickers went through the room. “As I was saying until the lovebirds over here interrupted me, there are a few distinct features about a werewolf which make them identifiable…”

For the rest of the lesson, the students copied down notes on how to identify a werewolf from a true wolf and the other effects it has on humans. Both Hermione and Draco looked very serious as they copied down their notes, occasionally looking at each other as if they were having a deep conversation.

When the clock on Lupin’s desk went off and the school bell sounded over the corridors at the end of class, Professor Snape held the students back.

“For homework, you will each write an essay, to be handed in, on the ways to recognise a werewolf from a true wolf. I want a full roll of parchment,” he told them, earning many groans from the students. “Dismissed!”

¤¤¤

That night, Hari was sitting up in bed in the dormitory, shivering despite the furnace in the middle of the room as he read a book about dragons he borrowed from the library. It was starting to thunder outside, the window to their bedroom flashing violently every few minutes as the storm raged on. Dean was sitting at the foot of his own bed, drawing something in a Muggle sketchpad and Ron and Neville were sitting on Neville’s bed, playing a game of Wizard’s Chess, which Ron was winning by a mile. Draco was on his own bed, working on his DADA homework while Seamus tried to juggle a couple of his socks unsuccessfully, going on a rant to Dean about Quidditch.

“Wha—?” Hari yelped as something black suddenly clouded his vision, scratching his face. Swearing, he pushed aside whatever jumped on him, surprised to come face to face with a pair of vibrant, emerald green eyes staring back at him. “Leo? What are you doing in my bed?” Hari asked the cat, reaching out to stroke his furry black head. “Dray, your cat is in my bed.”

Draco hummed, putting his textbook down and looking over. His confusion turned into a grin as he saw Hari stroking Leo, whose eyes were shut and was purring loudly. “I think he likes you,” said Draco, watching them interact.

“As long as he stays away from Scabbers or my arm!” said Ron over his shoulder, taking one of Neville’s rooks. The other boy groaned in annoyance.

“Is this about that cat that you chased around the common room?” asked Seamus. One of his bundled up socks hit him in the head and bounced onto the floor. Leo eyed it greedily, but seemed more content with getting his head scratched by Hari.

“He has it out for my rat Scabbers!” Ron snapped defensively, eyeing a small lump under his bed clothes which Hari assumed was Scabbers.

Dean chuckled, glancing up from his drawing for the first time in several minutes. “It’s a cat. Isn’t that sort of what they do?” he said. Ron shot him a glare and he held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying, mate.”

Hari ignored this conversation and continued stroking the purring black cat. Leo bumped his nose against Hari’s chin and he laughed, bumping his nose against the top of the cat’s head and closing his eyes.

“If you’re not careful, he’ll prefer you over me,” Draco said from his bed.

“Hedwig and you will just have to get used to it, then.”

Draco snorted and went back to his writing, hunched over his parchment, eyebrows narrowed in concentration. Hari continued stroking Leo, all thoughts of dragons going out of his mind in favour of the ball of black fur curled up beside him like he belonged there.

“You know,” said Seamus a little while later as everyone was starting to wind down, getting ready for bed and putting away their books and games, “Gryffindor better beat Hufflepuff tomorrow. We’ve got to beat pretty boy Cedric.”

“Don’t tell me you fancy him as well,” said Ron, laughing slightly while he was putting away chess pieces in a bag.

Seamus rolled his eyes and chucked one of his socks at Ron’s head. “Don’t worry, Ron. He’s not my type,” said Seamus jokingly. “I much prefer Gryffindors.” He winked at Ron, making his ears go as red as his hair. Seamus fell onto his bed, laughing loudly as Ron pouted and threw back his sock.

Hari laughed as well, startling Leo. Looking around at the idiosyncrasies of the other boys in his dormitory, he thought he really liked the Gryffindor boys sometimes.

¤¤¤

The next morning, Hari woke up far too early to find a tail hitting him back and forth in the face. He reached out for his glasses and put them on. Leo was curled up with his back to Hari, tail flicking back and forwards as it brushed Hari’s cheeks. Hari sighed and peered out between the curtains, seeing a faint light to indicate it was morning already. Hari lit up his wand and checked the time on the alarm clock on his bedside table and climbed out of bed. It was too early to function, but he might as well get downstairs for breakfast, he thought.

Hari was halfway through a slice of buttered toast and an omelette when the rest of the team turned up to join him. Oliver remarked that it would be a difficult match with all the pouring rain, doing little to help anyone’s spirits.

A little while later, they made their way down to the pitch to get ready, already soaked by the time they reached the changing rooms. Hari dressed into his crimson uniform silently as Oliver went over last minute tactics with the rest of the team, having to shout slightly to be heard over the roar of the wind and rain. Hari made his glasses Impervious to water, as Hermione had taught him the spell the night before so he could see better with his glasses on.

Finally, they were stepping outside to loud cheers and hollars, the rain pelting down. As they lined up to get ready for taking off, Hari caught sight of the Seeker, Cedric Diggory. Even with soaking wet hair, Hari could admit that Cedric was just as attractive as everyone said. He had dark blonde hair currently sticking to his forehead, a friendly smile and a strong jawline. Hari swallowed hard, watching him shake hands with Oliver Wood, who refused to smile at him.

Madam Hooch’s whistle. The roar of the crowd. A last look at Cedric. Hari kicked off into the air. He floated around the pitch, squinting for the Snitch. The wood of the broom was slippery under his grip as the rain continued to pour.

The match continued on for a while, the storm battering the players on both sides as the wind whipped their robes violently and their brooms were slick. Hari nearly fell off his broom in surprise as a clap of thunder boomed over the stadium.

Gryffindor was now over 60 points ahead. Hari just needed to get the Snitch as soon as he could. Then he could get a nice, hot shower and bundle up inside again. He watched Cedric circling the field at the other side of the pitch.

With another blinding flash of lightning, the entire sky lit up a shocking white. There, a silhouette in the stands, outlined ephemerally by the flash of lightning. A huge, shaggy black dog. Hari gasped. His hands slipped on the suddenly icy handle.

“Hari! Behind you!” shouted Oliver from nearby, hidden in the returning clouds of darkness.

Cedric was diving towards the sky. Gasping, Hari took off. He held tight to his broom, trying not to slip over the end. Cedric was too far away. Hari pushed farther. He was almost there…

Hari shivered violently and turned around on his broom. At once, he felt his heart skid to a halt. Everything was silent. Hari was cold to the very bones. Time stood still.

Below him, Hari saw about a hundred black dementors swooping underneath, making their way towards him. Hari swore violently, looking over at Cedric across the field, dread and hopelessness replacing his previous determination. Hari felt like he was going to be sick, feeling his stomach plunging as his surroundings went black.

And then he heard it. The voices.

“Not Hari! Please, not Hari!”

“Stand aside, silly girl! Stand aside!”

“No! Please!”

Hari was falling, falling, falling through a thick current of black smoke.

“Not Hari! Have mercy! Have mercy!”

Cutting into the darkness was a blinding flash of green and a shrill, high pitch laugh echoed in his ears. And then Hari hit the ground.

¤¤¤

“I thought for sure he was dead.”

“Thank goodness Dumbledore was there.”

“He didn’t even break his glasses. I thought he was dead.”

Hari realised several things as he woke up. He had no clue about his surroundings; people were talking about someone almost dying; both of his hands were being held tightly; his head was pounding almost violently.

“That was the worst thing I’ve seen in my life.”

“Yeah, it was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It all raced back to Hari. The storm, the Quidditch match, the dementors, the screaming…

Hari’s eyes flew open and he gasped awake fully. He was lying in the hospital wing, surrounded by sopping wet Gryffindors gathered around the foot of his bed. Hermione was gripping Hari’s hand on one side while a teary-eyed Draco held the other one, Ron sitting in stunned silence. They were all soaking wet as well.

“Thank fuck! Hari!” yelped Fred in surprise as Hari startled awake. “How’re you feeling, buddy?”

“Like shit,” Hari mumbled, squinting from the brightness of the room. Fred and George smiled at his swearing. “Wha’ happened?”

“Dementors. You fell about fifty feet. No wonder you feel like shit,” said George.

“We all thought you died,” said Alicia, looking shaky where she sat on the edge of a seat.

Hermione hiccoughed, sniffling and Ron rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. Her eyes were bloodshot as well and Draco’s grip tightened on Hari.

“What about the match? Are we getting a replay or…”

Nobody said anything. They all looked as if the words would make them sick to say and Hari felt his stomach plummet like himself during the match.

“Tell me we didn’t lose…”

“We didn’t lose?” said George, voice high. Hari could tell he was lying, trying to make some humour in the situation. It fell flat.

“Diggory got the Snitch just before you fell. He tried to insist on a rematch, as Hufflepuffs do, but even Oliver could admit they won fair and square,” explained Fred sadly.

Hari frowned. “So, where’s Oliver now?” he asked, only now noticing their Captain and Keeper’s absence.

“Still in the showers,” said Fred. “We think he’s trying to drown himself. Percy’s been trying to get him out since, but no go.”

Hari pulled both of his hands away from Draco and Hermione and pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his knees and gripping his hair. “Maybe I should join him,” Hari mumbled miserably into his knees, tugging at his hair.

Fred gently pulled his hands away from yanking out his hair. “Come on, Hari. You’ve never missed a Snitch before. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, there had to be at least one time, mate,” added George.

“To be fair, it’s impressive that it took dementors to get you not to catch the Snitch,” pointed out Ron to general agreement from the others.

Hari returned to pulling on his hair as they tried to figure out how much each team would need to win or lose by in order for them to have a fighting chance of winning. As their discussion went on, Hari felt more and more guilty and hopeless, hugging his knees close and eyes burning with tears threatening to spill out.

“That’s enough!” came the sharp voice of Madam Pomfrey suddenly. “Leave the poor boy alone before you send him into a panic attack! He needs rest!”

She shooed the Gryffindor team out of the hospital wing with a disapproving frown and gave the top of Hari’s head a pitiful smile. Hari was still cowering into his knees.

“Hari, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself,” said Hermione, forcing him to let go of his knees and stop pulling his hair. She stole a pillow from the next bed over so Hari didn’t have to lie flat on his back.

Draco shuffled closer to Hari’s bed, putting his head on Hari’s chest comfortingly as Hari leaned against the small pile of pillows. Hari ran his fingers through the wet hair instinctively, seeking the familiarity in his guilt at losing the match for the first time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dumbledore so angry,” said Hermione in a trembling voice. “He did a strange sort of spell to slow your fall slightly, which is probably the only reason you aren’t…” She fell short at the end, eyes welling up once again.

“Yeah. It was terrifying,” added Ron. “Then Dumbledore shot silver stuff to make the dementors go away and he magicked you a stretcher to float you up to school. We all thought…”

Hari was hardly paying any attention to the fact that the entire school thought they had just witnessed his death. He thought about the dementors coming towards him and the high, cold, cruel voice and the woman screaming and the blinding green light. He continued running his fingers through Draco’s hair, grounding himself.

“Did anyone get my broom?” asked Hari, trying to sound casual.

Draco stiffened on Hari’s chest and Hermione and Ron shared a glance.

“Well…”

Hari’s heart sank. “What?”

Draco finally spoke, his voice vibrating against Hari’s sternum. “When you fell off, it sort of got… blown away,” he said.

“And?”

“It flew into the Whomping Willow.”

“And?” asked Hari, shutting his eyes in preparation for the answer.

“You know how the Whomping Willow is,” said Ron as Draco got up to move over to a bag on the floor. “It doesn’t like being hit…”

Draco lifted the bag up and poured its contents out onto the foot of Hari’s bed. A shower of splintered wood and twigs rained down onto Hari’s feet, the very last remnants of his beloved Nimbus 2000.