Chapter Twenty-Two

A/N: I OWN NOTHING!I apologize for being absent for so long. I had a period of writer's block that was abnormally long and unbearable, not to mention that apparently Safari wouldn't let me upload documents or update chapters, so I had to switch to Chrome. I'm back!

Simba stretched as he got up. Sleeping on the floor had left a really weird feeling in his back, but he had slept the entire night for once. Looking out the corner of his eye, he could see Harry hadn't slept a wink. Though, Simba couldn't blame his brother. Knowing a wanted murderer was in the castle and supposedly after your blood couldn't be very restful.

"Hey Simba!" Fred called as he walked to Gryffindor table three weeks later. It was the storm of the year, and it was also the first Quidditch match of the year. Thus, Simba was convinced that Dumbledore was a few cubs short of a few pride. Why wouldn't you cancel the game in weather like this?

"You ready to win?" the lion asked as he climbed out from under the table and shook out his mane. Well, what there was of it. For some reason, his mane was taking forever to grow in but there was still a great deal of it.

"I'm ready, but I don't think Oliver thinks we can win though," the ginger said with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, we played Hufflepuff in Harry's first year and he caught the snitch in five minutes flat. I don't see what there is to worry about."

Simba smiled but walked away. He had decided to stay in this time. He had no intention of getting soaked along with the heart attack Harry was sure to give him. It was beginning to become a First Game tradition of his, and Simba wasn't entirely sure he liked it.

"Good luck," he called to the team as they made their way onto the pitch. He caught a smile from Harry and a wave from one of the twins. Curling up in front of the fire, Simba sighed in contentment as he closed his eyes. Of course, it was only for a second as Crookshanks came up to him and started rubbing his head.

"What now?" Simba groaned as he had really wanted to just sleep. He hadn't been sleeping well the past few days as the exposure to the Dementors got worse. It had gotten to the point that he would rather go days without stepping out on the grounds than deal with the Dementors.

Did that make him a coward? Yes. Was he proud about that? No. Was he going to do anything about it? Of course not. That would mean he'd have to deal with the Dementors and that was something Simba would rather not do. Like really not do.

"The rat is not a rat," Crookshanks said, pulling Simba out of his musings. The cat was so vaguely cryptic that Simba almost thought that the feline was taking lessons from Trelawney. That was another class Simba didn't frequent but it was because the human freaked him out. He had attended the class after the one with Harry predicted to die but it annoyed the living heck out of him that he never went back.

It didn't help that the professor reminded him of Rafiki thus allowing him the option of not taking the human seriously.

"That's cryptic and unhelpful," Simba scoffed. "I'm still mad at you by the way."

"How was I supposed to know that rat was a member of your litter?"

"By the way I was screaming DON'T EAT HIM!"

Crookshanks sighed, but changed the subject. "Did you hear about what happened at Hagrid's class?"

"No, what?" Simba sat up, intrigued. He had sat in on every one of Hagrid's classes but the Third Year's. He wanted to give Harry a little space and also, Simba had no intention of becoming creature food, thank you!

"The Malfoy runt managed to anger a Hippogriff! Foolish boy!"

"A what?"

"Oh that's right. You're still a cub," Crookshanks said with a rather condescending air that didn't sit right with Simba. This allowed the lion to be completely within his right to let out a low warning growl.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying: do not meddle in the affairs of sleeping lions for you are crunchy and good with ketchup?" Simba asked, getting up onto his paws and leaning into a pounching position.

"You wouldn't!"

Crookshanks caught on but not fast enough. Simba lunged and the smaller feline scurried off to avoid becoming a meal for the Lion. Sighing, Simba sat back down. The cunning ginger feline knew that if Simba ate him, then he wouldn't know what happened in the Third Year Care of Magical Creature class.

"You have no soul," Simba pouted.

"I am a Ginger."

"Yea—HEY!"

0000

Simba never did find out what happened during the Care of Magical Creatures class. After he managed to scare off Crookshanks, Simba decided to go and see if the game was still going on. It was then that he saw the crowd coming out of the Hospital Wing.

"Simba!" Hermione gasped and rushed to him.

"Who is it?" Simba asked, concerned. If one of the Gryffindor first years got struck by lighting, Dumbledore was going to be the first person bitten by a lion!

Hermione exchanged eye contact with Ron, who grimaced. Simba looked over to Fred and George, then to Katie and Angelina and then lastly to Alicia. There was only one person missing.

"It's Harry isn't it?" he sighed. "What happened?"

"The Dementors came on to the pitch—"

"They what?" Simba growled, cutting Hermione off mid sentence. Taking a breath, he realized that he still needed to find out what happened before he knew who to yell at for endangering a member of his pride and his brother to top that.

"Harry fell," Fred said bluntly. "He fell fifty feet. If Dumbledore didn't slow him down, who knows what would have happened when he hit the ground?"

Simba looked at the ground for a good while, not knowing how to imaging a life without his little brother in it. Then, anger began to swell inside him. Why didn't the match get canceled? Who was the genius to make sure it kept going?

"Who let Harry play?" Simba growled. "Who was the idiotic moron who put my brother in that kind of danger? Who—"

He cut himself off midsentence. There was a team member missing. He knew it. He just knew it.

"Where's Wood?" he growled. Ron was almost shaking and Hermione had turned white.

"I-in t-t-the s-showers," Katie stuttered and when Simba wasn't almost blind with fury, he'd realize that he was scaring the living daylights out of these people who had just seen their friend almost fall to his death. But that didn't exactly matter to him at that moment. Racing past the Gryffindors, Simba rushed to the team showers; grunting when he found the door locked.

"WOOD! WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GREAT KINGS WERE YOU THINKING!" Simba roared, not noticing the crowd gathered behind him who were clutching their ears as if they were in pain.

"We think he's trying to drown himself," George offered in what he must have thought was a helpful hint that Wood wanted to be left alone.

"So he does have a death wish," Simba growled and Hermione groaned.

"So much for that plan," Ron grumbled but Simba wasn't listening. He was going to stay here the entire time it took Wood to realize that there was a pissed off lion in front of the shower doors. Then, and only then, would Simba consider going to yell at the headmaster.

But only until he heard some form of sobbing. Wood had done the unthinkable and now Simba wanted him to pay.