Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

3. hippogriff flights.

When the four Gryffindors entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

Antheia walked towards Harry and whispered, "Ignore it, Harry, come on let's just go..."

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a face like a pug. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!"

Antheia shot the Slytherin girl a glare so cold and icy Harry felt his eyes widen slightly and he could swear he saw a flicker of fear cross Pansy's eyes before he dropped down next to George at the Gryffindor table.

"New third-year timetables," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked up in time to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those Dementors..."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.

"Forget it, Harry," said Geroge bracingly. "Dad had to go out of Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been. He came back all weak and shaking ... They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

The only time Harry and Malfoy faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. Feeling slightly more cheerful, Harry helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes.

Hermione was examining her new timetable.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today, she said happily.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable - and Antheia's too. Look - they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

"Relax, Ronald. We've fixed it up with Professor McGonagall," Antheia assured.

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine 'clock Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And -" Ron leant closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look - underneath that, Arthimancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you two are good, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Antheia shortly. "Of course we won't be in three classes at once."

"Well, then -"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But -"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if our timetables are a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "Antheia's told you, we've fixed it up with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absent-mindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.