The Other Potter Book Three.

Chapter Twenty Two

It was annoying. I kept getting sucked into Harry's thoughts whenever he went to those stupid anti-Dementor lessons. So I would either be drained of energy, or feel like crap.

One evening, I completely lost my mind. Well, more so than usual.

Hermione and I were sitting in our dorm, she wasn't so crabby now that she had finished her homework.

"UGH! I'M SICK OF IT I FEEL LIKE CRAP!" I complained throwing something. I didn't know what it was, but I threw it.

"Well, tell Harry to stop practice." Hermione said.

"You know I can't do that!"

"Well, stop whining then!" I pulled out my wand. "Please don't kill me."

"Expecto freaking patronum." I snapped.

"Why don't you say the spell properly to see if you can do it?" Hermione said thoughtfully.

"You honestly think I can?" I said with my eye-brows raised.

"Well," she said half heartedly. "You might."

"alright." Think happy thoughts. "Expecto Patronum!" something silver shot out the end of my wand and I fell over laughing.

"YOU KIND OF MADE A PATRONUS!" Hermione shouted at me.

I was crying with mirth. Me? A patronus? No, this was like impossible.

"Try it again!" Hermione ordered.

I was still laughing when I said it. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A large silver creature burst from my wand.

I stopped laughing for long enough to see what it was.

"A FREAKING LLAMA!" Hermione howled with laughter.

We laughed for ages before we decided to go down to the common room.

We sat down and the portrait hole opened as Harry, Ron and Neville walked in.

"Quick, look depressed and like we have been working for ages." Hermione mumbled to me. I hid my laughter and started writing something for history of magic.

"History of stuff is quite historical if you look at it in a literal sense because otherwise the history of fact becomes fiction which is undoubtedly a lie."

I have a feeling I'm going to fail this subject.

"I got it back," said Harry, as he approached our table.

"See? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron.

"Well -- there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "I'd better put it upstairs."

"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic."

He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.

"Can I sit down, then?" Harry asked.

"Suppose." I said moving a stack of parchment off a chair.

"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked Hermione as he looked at her thousands of essays.

"Oh, well -- you know -- working hard," said Hermione.

"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.

"I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalized.

"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.

"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favourite subject! It's --"

But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, we never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder -- and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bed sheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to our table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.

"Ron, what --?"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. I looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like --

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"N -- no," said Hermione in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. We leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

"Thats F***ed." I said simply.