The weeks before the first Quidditch match passed relatively uneventfully for Harry. The weather continued to worsen and the Slytherins looked increasingly nervous, but that didn't dampen Wood's enthusiasm.

"They're not training as much as we are," said Wood, smugly. "They're hoping that the Professors reschedule the match. Ha! Professionals have to play in these sorts of conditions, so why can we?"

"Because we are professionals," responded George, grinning in a joking manner. The rest of the team laughed.

Harry was thankful for the fact that there hadn't been anything when he bumped into Wood in the hall on his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, as when he and his friends entered the room. Because it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at them from the teacher's desk; it was Snape.

"Be seated," said Snape.

Harry didn't move as the rest of the class shuffled past him.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

Harry looked worriedly at Ben who rolled his eyes before pointing to his wrist. With a start Harry realized that it must be near the full moon, so Professor Lupin was currently unable to teach. Harry nodded to Snape before heading to sit near Ben, Ron, and Hermione.

"Now then, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far -"

"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start -"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

"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 -"

Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered.

"- werewolves," said Snape.

"But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks -"

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm as Ben had his head in his hands, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. Harry looked at Ben, who was glaring at Snape.

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between -"

"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on-"

"Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…"

"Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf -"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because the Ravenclaws hated being called know-it-alls, every one of the Gryffindors had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

The class knew instantly he'd gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained… That is incorrect, the Kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia… Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three…"

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

Harry, Hermione, and Ben left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape.

"Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry said to Hermione. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because of the Boggart?"

"I don't know," said Hermione pensively. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon…"

"He will," Ben replied. "By the way, you prepared for your match, Harry? I hope so, I look forward to not just this match, but your match against me."

Harry was lost. He looked at Hermione, who was also mystified by what Ben said. Harry replied, "What?"

Ben frowned. "Didn't I tell you? I tried out for the Seeker position for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. I narrowly beat a fourth year named Cho Chang for the primary Seeker spot. She's our Reserve Seeker."

"Congratulations, Ben," said Harry. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to our match against Ravenclaw now. I hope you're more of a challenge than Malfoy."

Ben smirked. "I'd hope so."

Hermione rolled her eyes at them.

Ron caught up with them five minutes later, in a towering rage.

"D'you know what that -" (he called Snape something that made Hermione say "Ron!") "- is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. Without magic!" He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched.

Harry woke extremely early the next morning; so early that it was still dark. For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken him. Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and sat bolt upright - Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear.

"What did you do that for?" said Harry furiously. Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the room, cackling.

Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now that he was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, he gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. Harry knew better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms. Nevertheless, he was starting to feel very apprehensive. Thankfully, he knew that Malfoy wasn't much bulkier than him so he would have to worry about Malfoy being able to fly straight while he was blown off course.

Harry whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire. Ginny came down about an hour after and sat across from him. They engaged in a trivial conversation as neither was awake enough to focus on heavier topics. Only once Ron and Hermione came down did the pair head out to breakfast.

Harry revived a bit over a large bowl of porridge, and by the time he'd started on toast, the rest of the team had turned up.

"It's going to be a tough one," said Wood, who wasn't eating anything.

"Stop worrying, Oliver," said Alicia soothingly, "we don't mind a bit of rain."

But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Just before he entered the locker room, Harry saw Ben and Sirius heading for the stands. The pair waved at him.

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He only said, "you know what to do."

The team nodded seriously before following him onto the field.

The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over Harry's glasses. How on earth was he going to see the Snitch in this?

The Slytherins were approaching from the opposite side of the field, near invisible in their green robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Flint tried to crush Wood's hand as Wood returned the favor. Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount Your brooms." He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant - they were off.

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain.

Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and green shapes, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. He couldn't hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. Twice Harry came very close to being unseated by a Bludger; his vision was so clouded by the rain on his glasses he hadn't seen them coming.

He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Twice Harry nearly hit another player, without knowing whether it was a teammate or opponent; everyone was now so wet, and the rain so thick, he could hardly tell them apart…

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; Harry could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing him to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.

"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at his team. "Come on, under here -"

They huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes.

"What's the score?"

"We're sixty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."

"I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses.

At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming.

"I've had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!"

He handed them to her, and as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, "Impervius!"

"There!" she said, handing them back to Harry. "They'll repel water!"

Wood looked as though he could have kissed her.

"Brilliant!" he called hoarsely after her as she disappeared into the crowd. "Okay, team, let's go for it!"

Hermione's spell had done the trick. Harry was still numb with cold, still wetter than he'd ever been in his life, but he could see. Full of fresh determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Malfoy who was cowering and flying in the opposite direction.

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly. Then, in the next flash, he spotted it flying around underneath him. He gazed at it a bit before turning his broom around and chasing it.

He managed to grab it and turned around to show that he had it.

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf - what was going on?

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving on the field below…

Before he'd had time to think, Harry turned his broom and looked down.

At least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, were standing beneath him.

It was as though freezing water were rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again… Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head… a woman…

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -"

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain… What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her… She was going to die… She was going to be murdered…

He was falling, falling through the icy mist.

"Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy…"

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought he was dead for sure."

"But he didn't even break his glasses."

Harry could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he'd got there, or what he'd been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scariest… the scariest thing… hooded black figures… cold… screaming…

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool. Ben was resting a few beds down, Sirius, Daphne, Luna, and Ginny beside him.

"Harry!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath, the mud. "How're you feeling?"

It was as though Harry's memory was on fast forward. The lightning… the Snitch…

and the Dementors…

"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell off," said Fred. "Must've been - what - fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Did they see I had the Snitch?"

Everyone looked at Harry in shock.

"You caught the Snitch?" said George.

"Yeah, just before I fell."

"Well, that'll simplify things," replied George. "Wood and Flint have been arguing whether or not to have a rematch with Madame Hooch."

"I don't think I've ever met a Hogwarts captain as dedicated to Quidditch ever," said Sirius from his position by Ben.

"He is rather intense," replied Ben.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him.

Ben was released, with only Sirius staying around with Harry.

"We'll visit later," said Ben as he left with Daphne, Luna, and Ginny.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away… He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him -"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…"

His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the Dementors had done to him… about the screaming voice. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?"

Ron, Hermione, and Sirius looked quickly at each other before Sirius replied.

"It - well - when you fell, it got blown into the Whomping Willow."

Harry's insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.

"And?" he said, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It - it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," said Hermione in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

"Don't worry about replacing it," Sirius said, not fully getting why Harry was silent. "I'll get you a replacement for Christmas."

AN: Well, this has been a thing. I apologize at how late in the day this has come out, but I haven't been in the mood or position to write this week, so I had to do this all today. I hope it's up to snuff.

Uploaded Apr. 18th, 2021