Chapter Eight

Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff

All hopes of having a nice, refreshing sleep were gone in Amara's mind as Professor Dumbledore made all the Gryffindors to go down to the Great Hall and wait. After a few minutes, the rest of the school arrived, all looking confused and many in their pyjamas.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," said Dumbledore. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the Hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately," he said to Percy, who was looking very proud at that moment. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Before he left the hall he conjured up hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags and made the tables fly to the corners of the room.

"Sleep well."

The hall was a-buzz with conversation immediately after he had left. Amara told other students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff what had happened before Percy managed to get quiet.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" he shouted. "Come on now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

The quartet seized four sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner.

"Do you thing Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," said Ron.

"It's weird that he chose tonight, though," Amara said as the all climbed fully dressed into the comfy sleeping bags. "D'you think it was an accident – I mean, did he not realise that everyone was actually in here?"

"I don't know, probably lost track of time, you know …" Ron said.

The whispers around them were all the same thing: "How did he get in?"

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate. Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably."

"He could've flown in," Dean said.

"Honestly, am I the only person who's ever bothered to read Hogwarts: A History?" said Hermione.

"Probably," said Amara and Ron together. "Why?"

"Because the castle's protected by more than walls, you know," Hermione said. "There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see a disguise that could fool those Dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in, too. And Filch knows all the secret passageways, they'll have them covered …"

"The light are going out now!" Percy said. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

The candles were extinguished so there was only the light from the ghosts and the stars that lit up the Hall. The Hall itself was alive with whispers, everyone too excited to get to sleep. Amara remembered with a jolt about Ethan, so she slyly looked around when Percy wasn't looking and waved at him, Eddie, Flick and Piper, who were jumbled up together.

At every hour, a teacher came in to the Hall to check up on things. Amara had finally managed to doze off at around two o'clock in the morning, her sleep restless and torn with images of Sirius Black whirling around her brain.

-OOOOO-

Harry, Ron and Hermione told her of the conversation they had overheard the night before between Snape, Dumbledore and Percy. Amara had been confused, but couldn't dwell on it – for the entire school was talking about Sirius Black over the course of the next few days. Hannah Abbott told them all about how he could turn himself into a shrub.

The Fat Lady, however, had not been replaced to guard Gryffindor Tower. In fact, in her place was no other than Sir Cadogan, the annoying knight from the deserted corridor. He always changed the passwords and challenged people to duel him every time they wanted to get into the common room.

"He's barking mad," said Seamus angrily to Percy one day. "Can't we get anyone else?"

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," said Percy. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only was brave enough to volunteer."

What irritated Amara (and Harry) was that people were constantly tailing him in the corridors, as though Sirius Black was going to burst from an empty classroom and stab him there and then.

As the first Quidditch match came nearer, Amara was displeased to notice that the weather was having a turn for the worse. It seemed that the winter months were ready to come in and the hot weather would soon disappear completely.

Two days before the match, Harry came back to the common room with some news.

"We're not playing Slytherin anymore," said Harry angrily. "We're playing Hufflepuff."

"Why?" asked Amara, looking through Ron's Transfiguration homework whilst Hermione looked on, in a very disapproving manner.

"Because of Malfoy's arm," spat Harry. "And apparently Hufflepuff's tactics are different now, because of their new captain – Cedric Diggory."

Amara and Hermione giggled together. Amara had noticed the Hufflepuff boy since the beginning of the year, because Katie Bell had pointed him out, giggling. He was tall, with nice hair and lovely eyes. All the girls swooned over him, and Amara wasted no time into pointing him out to Hermione in the corridors.

"What are you giggling about?" Ron asked as Harry looked exasperated.

"Cedric Diggory," giggled Amara. "Silent and handsome."

Ron and Harry were not at all amused by their giggling, so they went off to bed, leaving a still giggly Hermione and Amara behind them.

-OOOOO-

The weather was even worse the day before the match. The castle needed extra candles and torches so that it was lit up, and the winds managed to slip into the corridors as soon as the doors opened.

Wood kept getting Harry before lessons to give him advice, which was rather tiring, so Amara, Hermione and Ron always left him too it, for fear of being late themselves.

The three of them made their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts and were disgusted to find that Professor Snape was talking over the lesson for Professor Lupin.

They got their stuff out of their bags and Snape began to speak.

"Now, Professor Lupin has told me that he is too ill to teach today, so I'm taking the lesson instead." Amara did not like the way he smirked at this.

"Now, Professor –"

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I –"

Harry had come running through the door, ten minutes late, but froze once he saw who it was.

"The lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

"Where's Professor Lupin?"

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today." Snape said and Amara suddenly had a strange thought. Normally, when someone was ill they went to Madam Pomfrey and she sorted them out in a couple of minutes. What was up with Lupin that made him not able to do that? Why was he always looking so ill?

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, 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," Hermione said quickly. "and we're just about to start –"

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

"He's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" said Dean boldly, which caused everyone to agree with him.

"You are easily satisfied," said Snape. "Lupin is hardly over-taxing you – I would expect first-years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss –"

He flicked to the back cover.

" – werewolves."

Amara wondered if this was intentional or random on Snape's part.

"But sir," said Hermione, unable to stop herself. Amara put her hand against her forehead in exasperation. "We're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks –"

"Miss Granger," I was under the impression that I was taking this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page three hundred and ninety-four. All of you! Now!"

The class did so, with many mutters and annoyed glances, mostly aimed in Snape's direction.

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

Everyone except Hermione sat motionless.

"Anyone?" asked Snape. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between –"

"We told you," said Parvati. "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 recognise 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. "The werewolf differs from the true wold in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf –"

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

Amara's patience, which was already very low because of Snape, completely snapped. Her and Ron started talking loudly at Snape, whilst the rest of the class glared at Snape.

"She knew the answer – you completely ignored her!"

"Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

Snape advanced on them, trying to make them cower, but Amara stood her ground and stared him down.

"Detention, Weasley, Miss Matthews," said Snape, looking at Ron instead. "And if I hear either of you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Amara was still itching to start yelling again, but Hermione put a hand on her hand to warn her.

As the rest of the lesson was in silence, Snape's earlier words came back to her. Who wouldn't even recognise a werewolf when they saw one. Was Snape trying to tell them something? Was he hinting to them?

When the bell rang, Snape gave them something to be even more annoyed about.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognise 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, Miss Matthews, stay behind, we need to arrange your detentions."

The rest of the class left, looking murderous.

"Come here," said Snape silkily and Amara and Ron made their way to the desk. "Now, I want you two to scrub the bedpans in the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey. And I think no magic would be sufficient – report there at eight thirty. Be prompt, or I'll make you do it for a week."

Amara and Ron left, fuming. They walked in a stormy silence until they reached Harry and Hermione.

"Do you know what Snape has made us do?" spluttered Amara angrily.

"We have to scrub the bedpans in the hospital wing –"

"Without magic!" Amara raged. "He is such a bastard!"

"Amara!"

"Yeah, Mattie, language like that is not tolerated," came the voice of Fred from behind them. Amara turned to see the twins smirking at her.

"Shut up," she said. "I'm calling Snape one, so it's fine."

"Oh, Snape? I fully understand," nodded George. "Somehow, he got irritated with us for dropping stink pellets in his office the other day …"

-OOOOO-

At eight twenty, Ron and Amara made their way to detention in the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey shoved cleaning products in their hands and pointed to a massive stack of pans on the side of the room. She then went into her office, so Ron and Amara found they could chat quite easily.

It was hard work cleaning the pans, and it made their arms ache. Amara looked around after finishing her tenth pan and was surprised to notice that the hospital wing was empty. She found this odd, for Professor Lupin had been ill that day.

"Ron," frowned Amara. "I thought Lupin would be in here."

Ron looked around too. "Oh yeah," he said. "Maybe he's in his office?"

Amara nodded but carried on scrubbing without answering. Professor Lupin's illness was very mysterious and had missing connections.

Luckily, the work between them only lasted an hour and a half, meaning Amara was still able to go back to the common and catch up with homework. Ron, however, went straight to bed. Hermione was still in the common room so Amara got her books out and decided to start with Snape's essay on werewolves.

… Though they can live otherwise normal lives, on every full moon a werewolf will go through an incredibly painful transformation from a human into a wolf-like creature. They lose the ability to think in a human way, becoming highly aggressive towards humans- even those to whom they are close. Though werewolves usually only infect their victims through biting, they sometimes take it too far and kill their victims.
Before they transform, the werewolves become sickly and pale and weak – generally not able to do much within the day before the transformation.

Hadn't Lupin looked pale and sickly yesterday? Amara thought suddenly. She froze and looked out of the window. As if on cue, the clouds shifted and the very fully moon shined back at her. She paled.

She glanced at Hermione, who was staring at her.

"You've noticed too?" Hermione whispered.

"Is it true?" Amara said. "Is he – is he a werewolf?"

Hermione nodded. "Must be – and Snape hates him as well – why else would he do a lesson on werewolves?"

Amara nodded. "He looked so pleased with himself as well," she said. "D'you think anyone else will figure it out?"

"No," said Hermione. "And we can't tell anyone either – what on earth would everyone say? Werewolves are not high up in the wizarding community at all."

In the end, Amara did not do any of her homework – instead, she went up to bed and decided to get a good night's sleep so that she was ready for the Quidditch match the next day.

-OOOOO-

The weather had not gotten better the next day – Saturday dawned with roaring winds and lots of rain.

Amara grabbed her coat and umbrella for the match, and met Hermione and Ron down in the common room. They made their way to the Great Hall, where they sat down next to a very worried Gryffindor Team. They were all rather pale and Oliver Wood wasn't touching anything.

Amara, Ron and Hermione ate their breakfast as the team were silent. As it neared eleven o'clock, the team stood up.

"Good Luck," smiled Amara at them.

"We're going to need it," Fred muttered to her. "Have you seen the rain?"

The rain, in fact, was nearing a storm. The three friends sprinted to the pitch, Amara's umbrella not doing much to stop them getting soaked through. It turned inside-out, so Amara had to bin it anyway.

When the teams came out of the changing rooms they staggered in the wind. Amara was already frozen stiff and the wind was slowly stopping her from feeling anything. They couldn't even hear Madam Hooch's whistle to signal the start of the game, and Lee Jordan's commentary was pointless.

The game started but nobody knew what was happening – where the players were or what was going to happen. The wind was picking up and the sky was steadily getting darker and darker. The rain was continuing to lash down on them, and the stands were covered in a mass of umbrellas. Amara, Hermione and Ron were all huddled under Dean's enormous umbrella that had somehow managed to survive the wind. Amara could hardly see anything, the rain was obscuring her view and she was getting worried for the player's safety.

Suddenly, there was a flash of lightening and Amara could make out the Gryffindor Team huddled on the ground.

"I've got an idea!" beamed Hermione and she sprinted away, her cloak over her head all the while.

She wasn't gone long; she came back with a massive smile on her face as the team took to the air.

"I put a spell on Harry's glasses so that he can see," she explained.

"Genius!" Amara grinned and looked back at the game.

"Here," Hermione said, and pointed her wand at Ron and Amara's eyes. "Impervius."

"Hey, this spell works great!" Amara grinned as she looked up to see the players zooming about once more.

But the storm wasn't in the same mood. There was a very loud clap of thunder and a flash of forked lightening lit up the sky.

Amara shuddered as the players kept shooting around the pitch. Harry was flying this way and that, obviously searching for the snitch. When a second roll of thunder and lightning came around, though, he froze, as though in a trance. Cedric Diggory, however, was racing on his broom – the snitch not too far away. Just as Harry turned around, Amara felt a cold chill sweep up her spine, freezing her insides, sucking away her nice, happy memories … She gasped and pointed to the grounds. Hundreds of Dementors were flooding the pitch and stopping in the middle. Hermione screamed and clutched Amara's arm, who looked up and saw Harry slip sideways off his broomstick and hurtle towards the ground.

Amara screamed as he neared the ground, but Dumbledore ran onto the pitch, waved his wand, and Harry slowed down immediately. Then, Dumbledore shot the same silvery stuff as Lupin had at the Dementors, which made them turn and glide away. Dumbledore's booming voice stilled the storm as he became very angry.

"Amara," Ron said, who was extremely pale. "We have to go."

Amara saw Harry being put on a stretcher and led up to the castle. He was deathly pale and was very still. Amara gulped as tears sprung into her eyes. She hurried down the stands with Ron and Hermione as the tears went down her face, where they joined up with the Gryffindor Team, all having mud splattered on them.

"We lost," said Fred as they came nearer, explaining why Oliver Wood was looking so devastated.

"We need to go to Harry," Amara said, tugging his Gryffindor robes. Fred obliged and the whole team, minus Wood, all ran up to the hospital wing, where Harry was being laid on a bed.

"Is he alright?" Amara burst out. Madam Pomfrey looked up, startled, but her features softened as she saw their stricken faces.

She nodded. "He'll hopefully wake up soon." She walked back to her office to fill out a form.

They all crowded around the bed. Professor Flitwick and McGonagall came into the hospital wing.

"Is Mr Potter alright?" asked Flitwick squeakily.

"I think so," said Angelina.

"Madam Pomfrey said he'd wake up soon."

"Well, we best give this to you then," said the Professor, and he showed them a blanket holding dozens of pieces of wood.

"That's not his –"

"Broomstick? Yes, I'm afraid," Flitwick said. "The wind blew it away – and it smashed into the Whomping Willow." He left the broomstick on the bed and Hermione placed it into her bag.

The others all turned to watch Harry again.

"Lucky the ground was so soft," said Angelina, looking worried.

"I thought he was dead for sure," said Alicia.

"But he didn't even break his glasses," said Katie, wiping her hair out of her face.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life," George said fervently. Everyone nodded in agreement as Harry's eyes snapped open.

"Harry!" said Fred, who was still next to Amara, who had still got hold of his sleeve. "How're you feeling?"

"What happened?" Harry said, sitting up very fast, startling them all.

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

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

"It was horrible," squeaked Amara.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we having a replay?"

Nobody said a word.

"We didn't – lose?"

"Diggory got the snitch," said George. "Just after you fell. He didn't realise what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a re-match. But they won fair and square … even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?"

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself.

Harry gripped his hair and Fred shook him with his free hand.

"C'mon Harry, you've never missed the snitch before."

"There had to be one time you didn't get it," said George.

"It's not over yet," said Fred. "WE lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff lose to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin …"

"Hufflepuff will have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw …"

"No way, Ravenclaw are too good. But if Slytherin lose against Hufflepuff …"

"It all depends on the points – a margin of a hundred either way –"

Harry did not seem to care, though.

Madam Pomfrey finally came over and asked the team to leave. Amara grudgingly removed her hand from Fred's sleeve as he left.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever hand."

Amara, Hermione and Ron went closer to the bed.

"Dumbledore was really angry," said Hermione. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the pitch 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 straight away … he was furious they'd come into the grounds – we heard him …"

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

"It was horrible," Amara said.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?"

Amara gulped.

"What?"

"It blew away," said Amara, tears threatening to come out again. "And – and, oh, Harry, it smashed into the Whomping Willow!"

"And?" whispered Harry.

"Professor Flitwick brought it around," Amara said quietly. "It's – it's, well –"

And Hermione tipped the pieces of broomstick onto the bed, Harry looking miserably at his faithful broomstick.