LII
All week Professor Lupin didn't recover from his transformation. That didn't mean the week passed uneventfully. On Tuesday, as Kakashi went to Mugglestudies, he saw the Minister of Magic leave the castle. Fudge and Dumbledore probably talked about Sirius' intrusion into the castle during the weekend, Kakashi thought. At least he hoped so. Last time, when he kicked a Dementor, the wraith had ratted him out to the minister. If Fudge learned that Kakashi had again kicked one of his Dementor again—never mind during the night of Sirius' invasion of Hogwarts—it might spell trouble for Kakashi.
Kakashi didn't know if the Dementors had recognized him. He hoped they hadn't, otherwise, he'd have to be extra careful to make sure that Dumbledore wasn't spying after him. It was unsettling to Kakashi, not knowing how well the old man could surveil him with his magic. If anybody in the castle would be a danger to Kakashi, it would be the headmaster.
That wasn't his only concern, though. Something was up with Neville. Whenever Neville came to spend time with him, he was terribly quiet, and sometimes Kakashi even felt as if Neville was avoiding him. He initially thought Harry had told him to be careful around Kakashi, but Ron assured him that Harry hadn't talked to Neville about him.
And then there was Sirius. The day after Kakashi brought him his first ration, it was gone immediately. However, the two days after, nobody had picked up the food that Kakashi hid under the roots of the Whomping Willow. He didn't know if Sirius simply hadn't found it or if he was suspicious of the unknown Samaritan.
At least his search for a way to fight the Dementors was progressing nicely. Finally. He had found a book in the forbidden part of the library detailing a spell called Expecto Patronum. Of course, knowing the incantation only helped him very little, as he couldn't use the spell anyway, but it helped him learn a bit about the theory of fighting a Dementor. Supposedly, the Patronus was a shield made from a happy memory. How that helped to repel the Dementors and not just to attract them—as they fed of happy thoughts—Kakashi didn't know yet. As soon as Lupin got better, he would ask him again to help find a solution against the Dementors. After all, now that he had a piece of sensitive information to use against Lupin, the teacher might be more inclined to help him.
Kakashi also wondered about including the twins in his plan. Once Sirius got more active in Hogwarts, that map they had which had apparently revealed Kakashi's real identity to them, might become a dangerous tool against Sirius. On the other hand, having two wizards able to perform the spell to force Peter into his human shape on their side would be a valuable asset. Never mind, Kakashi wanted to get his hands on that map.
With all these things going on, the upcoming Quidditch match was the least of his concerns. Unfortunately, it seemed as if he was the only person in the whole castle who didn't care about the beginning Quidditch season.
Zacharias and Wayne who were both part of the Quidditch team spent most of their evenings out on the Quidditch pitch to practice. Even when the Gryffindors occupied the pitch, Cedric made them run rounds around the castle. It was the first bit of honest exercise Kakashi had seen during all those weeks in Hogwarts.
"You have good stamina," Cedric complimented him when he joined their training on Thursday just to get his juices flowing. They just finished their first round around the castle and Kakashi had kept pace with Zacharias until the boy had stopped running and rather switched to a fast walk. Then Kakashi had caught up to Cedric in front. "Did you do regular training before coming to Hogwarts?"
His breath was loud and panting, but his voice was still stable. There was sweat running down his temples and into the collar of his shirt, but unlike most of his team, he didn't seem like he'd collapse anytime soon.
"Mah," Kakashi was about to deflect when he realized, he wouldn't get away with a lie. It was obvious that he was in much better shape than his peers. "You're not too shabby, yourself."
Cedric huffed a snort. "Thanks, but—" he panted, "—I'm already at my limit."
"You don't normally train like this?" Kakashi wondered. From what he knew Quidditch was the only sport that wizards and witches played with any sort of regularity. By now, Justin had taught him the rules, so he knew there were some physical aspects of it—collisions weren't uncommon, and the Bludgers were surely dangerous—but it seemed like most players weren't as physically fit as he would have expected.
"No," Cedric turned forward, focusing on where he was going, so he wouldn't stumble over the gravel. "Most just train on the broom. After all, we play on the broom. But I've spent all summer—looking into training methods by professional teams, and it turns out, some of the most professional teams incorporate—huh—incorporate some sort of stamina training." He slowed down a bit. At that tempo Kakashi would be able to walk beside him, but he didn't mention it and simply adjusted his own speed. "It makes sense. After all, games can take hours."
Justin had told Kakashi that the longest game ever played had lasted a whole three months. It seemed utterly ridiculous to him, and Kakashi couldn't imagine that any of the kids who hadn't even managed a whole round around the castle would be able to survive that—even if they brought in substitutions.
Cedric stopped as they reached the front gate where they had started the round. Granted, it had been a big circle, taking them around the lake and the whole building, up the hilly landscape and down again. Still, it shouldn't have taken them almost thirty minutes to finish the whole round. Cedric seemed unhappy too, as he checked the time with a flick of his wand and then started hopping up and down on his feet, so he wouldn't freeze in his sweaty sportswear as he was waiting for his team.
"Not that I think it's necessary for the game," he said just when Zacharias and one of the older boys—a blond Chaser called Cadwallader—appeared from behind the Hogwarts walls. Zacharias had apparently picked up his pace again when Kakashi left him behind. At least, he was trying.
"What do you mean?"
"Potter. The game ends when the Seeker catches the Snitch." Of course, Kakashi knew the rules already. "Last year, the Quidditch season was interrupted halfway through, but if Potter got any better… He's good. I doubt he needs long to spot the Snitch."
"He's that good?" Harry had talked about Quidditch when they first met, but other than Harry's own account, he didn't get a second opinion on the boy's skill yet.
"Oh, he's a natural." Cedric jumped up and down in the cold November air. It wasn't raining that day, but it was already getting dark, and the cold of the day turned into a freezing night. "Genius flier." He smirked. "Not that I intend to lose. HEY, GUYS!" He suddenly yelled out to the team that kept appearing—one after the other—from behind the castle walls. "Hurry up! You let Charlie show you up completely."
"Why don't you ask him to join, then?" Zacharias asked between desperate gulps of air. When he finally reached them, he doubled over, but instead of leaning on his own knees, he decided to take Kakashi as a crutch. Surprised by the sudden burden, Kakashi shifted on his feet and squared his shoulders. It only made Zacharias lean more heavily on him. "Stay that way," he whined. "You're just the right size." Kakashi was a fair bit shorter than the blond Chaser. Just the right size so he could comfortably hang his arms and head over Kakashi's shoulders.
At first, he didn't know how to react. Over the last few weeks, he had gotten a lot more comfortable with such close contact but having a sweaty and tired boy virtually hang on him was still an odd new development. He didn't know what to think or how to feel about it. It wasn't technically uncomfortable, he decided, though Zacharias stank of salty sweat. Kakashi barely even realized the way he stabilized his position and stopped moving around.
"Come on, Zack," Cedric admonished his player. "Straighten up. You can't be too tired to stand."
"Yes, I can be," Zacharias pouted. "My feet hurt."
"And your head? Is your head too heavy for your neck?"
"Yes, it is!" To prove his point, he lifted his head slightly, then put it back down on Kakashi's shoulder. "Stop complaining, Cedric. Charlie doesn't mind."
Kakashi hadn't been asked, but he also didn't contradict Zacharias. Cedric looked at him, as if to make sure that Kakashi really didn't mind, then he shrugged.
"Whatever, fine." At that moment, the last of the team arrived. "From now on, I want to do this stamina training once a week." The whole team groaned tiredly. Cedric frowned at their less than enthusiastic response. "No training tomorrow. Rest, and make sure you're fit for the match on Saturday." That got a small cheer. Cedric seemed unhappy with the way his team clearly appreciated rest over further training, but he decided to let it go. Kakashi had to smirk slightly, imagining how happy Cedric would be if his team had Guy's work ethic. "Alright, let's go shower."
Kakashi wanted to separate from the group then, to check if Sirius had taken the care package, he'd left for him a few hours ago. However, Zacharias didn't let go of him and slowly pushed him towards the boys' locker rooms. Nobody seemed to mind, that Kakashi joined them.
"Did you think about it?" Cedric asked out of the blue as he discarded his sweaty shirt. "The team, I mean. Zack's right," he kicked his shoes off. "We could need an athletic guy like you. Especially, since my team is apparently full of tired slobs."
"Hey!" somebody yelled from the open door to the shower room.
Kakashi shrugged. "I never sat on a broom," he admitted honestly. "I doubt I'd be good at it." He didn't think the broom would even fly with him on it.
When Kakashi looked back at Cedric, the older boy's brows were furrowed in contemplation. "You never—right, you didn't get flying classes, right? How about we give it a try after the match?"
Kakashi doubted he'd have time for Quidditch, but he also wanted to try out a broom. If those things worked for non-magical beings, it might be something useful to bring to Konoha. "Sure. After the match."
"I'll get permission from Madam Hooch. She's the one responsible for the flying classes," he shook his head. "I don't get why she didn't speak to you before."
Although the game was still a day away, on Friday finally, the whole castle only spoke about the match. It wasn't just the Quidditch teams and their fans from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor anymore, the other houses started choosing sides too. Draco Malfoy who had just days before still made fun of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, suddenly owned a wool hat in Hufflepuff colors, just to show his aversion against Gryffindor. Professors McGonagall and Sprout showed open allegiance to their houses, with McGonagall switching her big pointy hat to a red and gold one, and Sprout wearing a giant yellow flower on the cap of her flappy hat and a flower garland around her neck that hung all the way to her belly.
It was a festive sort of energy, as if it wasn't just a game of sport but a big event. The only ones not buying into the joyful mood were Professor Snape who decidedly didn't show any colors and apparently made a huge fuss about anybody who wore house scarfs to his classes—and Filch the janitor who ran around with a lousier mood than usual as he had to clean confetti away and found all sorts of fanwear where students forgot them in bathroom stalls, in classrooms, and in the Great Hall.
The morning before the match, Dumbledore wore a rather ridiculous gown that was half in Gryffindor red, half in Hufflepuff yellow; at least that's what Kakashi assumed it was. The Gryffindor colors were red and gold, and it wasn't easy to differentiate gold cloth from yellow cloth, especially with the shiny, elegant fabric Dumbledore wore. So, really, he could've just been wearing a Gryffindor flag. Susan Bones was the first to notice that, and she told so everyone who would listen at the Hufflepuff table. Zacharias was angry about it, Justin and Ernie thought it was funny, and Cedric was so focused on getting everyone of his team the right amount of breakfast, that he didn't even notice.
"Of course, he's wearing Gryffindor colors," came a snarling voice from behind. "He's a Gryffindor after all."
Draco Malfoy had sauntered over to their table after finishing his breakfast, Crabbe, and Goyle standing like looming shadows behind him.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Zacharias groaned, looking as if he'd rather want to drown in his porridge than talk to the Slytherins.
"Believe it or not," Draco grinned, "I came to wish you good luck. Don't ruin it, Smith, I've got money on your victory."
"Get lost, Malfoy!"
"What are you doing here, Weasleby?" Zacharias and Draco spoke at the same time.
Ron wasn't alone when he arrived at the table. Both Harry and Hermione stood a bit to the side not far away. Draco glanced from one to the other.
With a derisive snort, one of his eyebrows traveled all the way up to his hairline. It was quite an impressive show of mock arrogance. "Don't tell me, Wood is so desperate he sent the braindead brigade to spy for him." He laughed. "I don't think he has anything to worry. Look, without Mama Diggory, they can't even eat their breakfast."
"Malfoy!" That was Cedric, with a warning hiss in his voice. "Leave my team alone, or I will take points from you and give you detention."
"You can't—" Draco protested.
"Charlie, what is it, Snape has you doing again?"
"Cleaning bedpans," Kakashi replied easily
Draco looked immediately disgusted. He lingered around just long enough to save face and hear Ron's next words, which made him finally stroll away with snickering laughter.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Ron said to Kakashi. "It's your first game, right? It would be unfair if you had to miss that. So, Harry and I talked to Pomfrey, and she allowed us to do our detention earlier today. So, if we go right away, we can still watch the game. What do you say?"
"Harry and you?" Kakashi looked to Harry who stood just far enough away that the way he avoided Kakashi's eye contact didn't seem awkward.
"Well," Ron shifted nervously on his feet. "More me than Harry. Anyway, are you coming?"
Before Kakashi had time to decide, Justin already pushed him off his bench. "Go on, Charlie! I'll save you a place."
Since Black shredded the portrait of the Fat Lady, the Gryffindor tower had a new watchdog. Sir Cadogan didn't even protect the entrance to the common room for a week, and Harry already was annoyed by his constant challenges for a duel.
"Raise your blade, coward!" Harry heard him scream. The painted knight's boisterous voice carried all the way through the wall and into the common room where Harry sat in front of the chimney and stared into the flames.
The play of the many orange tongues of fire mixing with the drumming of the rain against the window was hypnotizing to him. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting here, waiting for the game to start. Even Sir Cadogan's yells didn't make him look up. He did however pull himself out of his trance when he heard the whining of the fat orange cat scratching against the door to the boys' dormitories.
"Crookshanks," Harry called out. Standing up he already felt tired, and the game hadn't even started yet. "Come here, Crookshanks!" He caught the furball just outside the door to the boys' dormitory. Hermione was nowhere to be found, so he had no idea what to do with the cat. He'd been stopping Crookshanks from hunting down Scabbers at least four times already, but the stupid tomcat wouldn't learn.
If only Hermione were here, then she could take responsibility for the cat. Not that she did that, even when she was present. More and more, Harry had to agree with Ron, that Crookshanks was hunting Scabbers specifically and Hermione didn't do anything about it. He got annoyed by it. It was a good thing, that Ron wasn't here, still serving his detention with Kakashi. The last thing Harry needed before the match was his friends fighting over their pets again.
Having finally enough of Crookshanks, he pulled the heavy cat up to his chest and carried it to the exit out of the common room. If Crookshanks was locked out, he couldn't hurt Scabbers after all, and after the game, Harry was sure, Crookshanks would find his way back and sneak in with the crowd returning from the game.
"Fiend!" Sir Cadogan screamed just before Harry pushed the portrait open. "Stand and fight!"
Right in front of the entrance, Neville waited, head red as a pumpkin, stuttering out the last week's password. "For—Fortuna Major!" he called out. "Fortuna Major! Please, Sir Cadogan!"
"You shall not pass! Shoo!"
"I was sure it's Fortuna—"
"That was last week," Harry said.
"Harry. Thank Merlin. He doesn't want to let me in!"
"It's Ry'n ni yma o hyd."
"Ry'n ni yma o hyd!" Sir Cadogan exclaimed loudly as if he took offense to Harry's pronunciation. "You savage!"
"What?" Neville blinked. "Riya—what?"
Sir Cadogan said it again, even louder as if he didn't see the issue at all. Since Black's attempt to get into the common room the passwords changed almost daily, and apparently, Sir Cadogan had a liking for the most ridiculous passwords. Half of them none of the Gryffindors knew how to pronounce. "They are listed on the blackboard," Harry told Neville. "Don't bother learning this one, it'll change tomorrow anyway. Do you want to come to the game?"
Harry put Crookshanks down as soon as Sir Cadogan's portrait and the secret entrance swung shut behind him. Together with Neville, he made his way to the Quidditch pitch.
"I wanted to talk to you actually," Neville said as they followed Crookshanks' bushy tail down the stairs.
"What about?" Harry was too distracted—mind already half on the upcoming Quidditch game—to pay full attention to his friend.
"Charlie. I thought you were friends, what happened between you?"
Harry stopped in the middle of the stairs. He eyed Neville warily, then he continued his descent. "Everything's fine."
"You're keeping me out of the loop," Neville accused. "You, and Ron and Hermione too. He's my friend as well, so I think I should know."
Guiltily, Harry bit his lip. "You should talk to him about it."
"And what would I ask him?" Pouting, Neville crossed his arms. "I don't even know what this is about. But I heard you talk during Halloween. You thought a student helped Black enter, didn't you?"
Snape had voiced that suspicion first. Neville could hardly blame him for repeating a teacher's concerns, though Neville might not have heard Snape's accusations.
"I'm sure you were talking about Charlie. But you didn't call him Charlie."
How much had Neville heard?
"Why don't you call him Charlie?"
He sighed. There was no reason why Harry should protect Kakashi. Maybe Neville would be better of knowing too. "Because it's not his real name." Wanting to end the conversation there, he was about to leave Neville standing when Neville stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Why would he be lying about his name?"
"Cause he's a liar," Harry replied stupidly. "I don't know. Ask him. But his real name is Kakashi, not Charlie. And he's not from South Africa either. It's all lies." With that, he finally pulled himself free and left Neville behind, worrying that he might be late for the game if he lingered any longer.
The weather was terrible. Cold, wet, dark. All day, Harry had been concerned about that. He was of a slight and lithe statue. The wind would blow him and his broom away easily. Cedric Diggory was much taller and heavier, uncommon for a seeker. In this weather, it would give him an advantage.
He'd been looking forward to his first game of the school year, but this game had been cursed from the start. First the uncertainty after Draco's 'injury', then the sudden decision that they had to play against Hufflepuff who had a completely different playing style, and now the weather. Nothing worked out well. With that track record, he wouldn't even be surprised, if he got struck by lightning.
It was such terrible weather, on the way to the pitch he was sliding through mud rather than walking. The students coming to watch the game had to fight against the storm and he'd seen more than three umbrellas and scarfs get ripped away with the wind. Even Wood seemed so unhappy about it that after the team switched into their red cloaks, he couldn't even muster the confidence for one of his cheerful motivational speeches. The Hufflepuffs in their canary yellow didn't look much better, and soon the cloaks of both teams were drenched in water with mud spraying up to their thighs. And they hadn't even mounted the brooms yet.
He barely even heard the whistle, when Madam Hooch started the game, and the cheers of the crowd seemed miles away.
Harry's Nimbus 2000 whizzed into the air where it was immediately in the unforgiving clutches of the storm. He almost lost control and had to use all his strength to keep his broom on course. It had been a few uncomfortable weeks, but at least all the dreadful training in horrid weather paid off immediately, as he slowly got used to the storm. He still had trouble keeping his Nimbus calm, but soon it cut through the storm with almost the same speed and elegance he was used to. His broom was one of the best on the market, and the superiority of his equipment gave him the edge that he needed to make up for his physical disadvantage against Diggory.
Still, even with his broom under control, he wanted to end the game quickly. Up in the air, the rain was unforgiving. The cold stung on his skin, biting painfully. It felt as if the heavy droplets formed a layer of ice over his body. After only a few minutes, his hands clamped around the broomsticks, felt as stiff as frozen blocks, that he could barely even move them anymore. He was also pretty sure that he had lost the feeling in his toes.
His clothes were drenched within seconds and the rain made it impossible to see anything through his glasses. The game hadn't lasted long yet, and already, he had no idea what was going on. He couldn't see his teammates nor the opponents. He barely saw more than colorful blurs through the veil of the downpour. Twice he was almost knocked off his broom by a Bludger, and he didn't know where it had come from, nor who had hit it, nor which direction it disappeared to. It just whizzed past, coming from nowhere, and disappearing into nothing. As always Lee Jordan was the stadium announcer, but Harry couldn't even hear his voice.
He wanted to end this game, but it seemed somebody else had the same idea. When he heard the whistle by Madam Hooch, he feared they had already lost, and everything was over. But it turned out, that Wood had called for a break.
"If you don't catch the Snitch fast, we're going to play into the night," Oliver Wood screamed over the storm as soon as Harry landed.
Harry knew that. He was trying his best, but he couldn't even see anything. "What's the score?" Harry asked back.
"We have a fifty-point lead. But we need the Snitch."
"I can't see anything with this!" Harry yelled as he took his glasses off.
Thankfully, at that moment, Hermione appeared. She was followed by Ron, who tried to hold his cloak tight against the wind. "I have an idea, Harry, give it to me." Without even asking for his approval, she took his glasses and tabbed it with her wand.
"You made it in time!" Harry called out to Ron, glad to see his best friend had come to see his match. If anything, he could be grateful to Kakashi, that him being apparently a near-professional bedpan cleaner enabled Ron to watch the match.
"Just arrived," Ron answered. "Though I wish I hadn't come, to be honest." He shook out his boot, spraying mud over his and Hermione's cloaks.
"Here, take that." Hermione gave Harry his glasses back. "It should repel water, now."
"Genius!" Wood called out before Harry even tried if it worked. "Now, let's do it!" He ordered them all back on their brooms, and while Hermione and Ron still fought the storm to get back to the dais, Harry shot into the sky again; still cold and miserably wet—but at least he could see.
The Snitch? Where was—
Lightning lit up the sky. It branched off into a thousand arms, reaching for the players on their brooms. Harry blinked against it, fearful, that he might get struck. And then he saw it. Illuminated by the lightning.
Calmly and unmoving it sat in the empty top row of the tribunes. A giant black dog. It was monstrously big, like a bear, black against the gray storm. Like the leaves on the bottom of his teacup.
The Grim. He could hear Trelawney's voice shriek. An omen of death.
Harry's frozen hands lost their grip around the broom. He dropped towards the ground, then he caught himself. The beast was gone when he looked again.
"Harry!" He whirled around when he heard Wood scream. "Harry, behind you!"
Cedric Diggory was in a fast race across the field, toward him. Right between them, hanging in the rain—the Snitch.
The sound dropped away. As he sped up his broom, an eerie silence took hold of him. The crowds' cheers were far away, Lee Jordan's muffled voice almost inaudible, the storm… It was all gone. It was suddenly very quiet. It was cold… So incredibly cold.
"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please, not Harry."
A woman was screaming.
"Stand aside you silly girl. Stand aside now."
"Not Harry! Please kill me instead."
It was in his head.
He had to help her. Somebody needed to help her.
But when the darkness took hold of him, he wasn't sure if anyone could help her. He knew this woman—or he thought he knew her. Like an age-old memory, or a dream he had once dreamt. But he couldn't find a name, and all he knew, was that she needed his help.