Find Who You Are ( Harry Potter x Male Reader ) [VERY SLOW UPDATES]

Chapter 55

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Y/n's P.O.V.
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Hermione quickly questions Snape on why we're learning such an advanced subject, while I stomach my realization, "But, sir, we've only just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start Nocturnal Beasts for weeks-"

"Quiet!" I get out of my stupor, as Snape yells this.

You know, this subject makes sense too. This whole lesson is meant to irk Lupin when the full moon is over. It's all just meant to be a dig at him.

I pat Hermione on the back, and smile at her empathetically. Good thing about being seated next to her, is that no one tries to cheat off of me.

Snape then starts the lesson, inquiring us, "Now. Which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?"

The class stares mutely at a slide of a Werewolf attacking someone. I know the answer, but I don't feel like getting insulted in the process of answering the question, so I stay silent. I instead focus on the moth that's been flying around the room. The moth flutters by Harry's desk and he swats it down onto the desk with his hand. A small mushroom cloud of moth dust flies up and Harry lifts his hand, revealing a crumpled up piece of paper, instead of a dead moth. Someone passed him a note.

"No one? How...disappointing." Snape states, stalely.

Hermione answers, in a matter of fact, tone of voice, "Please, sir, an Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A Werewolf has no choice in the matter. Furthermore, the Werewolf actively hunts and only responds to the call of it's own kind-"

Hermione's interrupted by Malfoy letting out a low howl, poorly imitating a wolf howl.

"Quiet, Malfoy! Though one must admit to feeling your pain. That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Tell me. Are you incapable of restraining yourself? Or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?" Snape insults, through a snarl.

After a moment Snape continues, "Five points from Gryffindor! As an antidote to your ignorance, I prescribe two rolls of parchment on the Werewolf by Monday morning, with particular emphasis based on recognizing it. Passing notes, Potter?"

First off, he just wants us to be able to find out that Professor Lupin is Werewolf, or just have him see that this was taught to them and have Lupin be very on edge that anyone might find out about him. Second off, no one passed Harry anything. Only thing that has landed on his desk is that moth. Maybe someone passed a note by transfigurating it into a moth? That makes the most sense.

I lean forward to look at the note, its a badly scrawled drawing of Harry on a broom, being electrocuted. I scoff and roll my eyes. What is this Primary School? (any americans like me, reading this, primary school is elementary school basically k-5 grade)

"Not exactly Picasso, are you? I hope you demonstrate more talent in Quidditch Pitch this weekend then you do as an artist. If not, I fear you'll perish, given the weather forecast. Until that time, however, you'll forgive
me if I don't let you off homework. Should you die, I assure you... you need not hand it in."  Snape insults condescendingly.

Well, this was a petty waste of a class.

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Lightning strikes the middle golden Quidditch ring, as I, along with the rest of the Gryffindor team and Hufflepuff team fly out. Clouds above me bloom with icy blue light, below me, rain lashes the sea of umbrellas in the stands. The crowd roars as we get in position to start the Quidditch match.

I push my hair out of my face and grip my broom hard, to try and make my grip more steady against the slip the rain is creating. The game starts and I squint through the rain, and follow the Quaffle. Hitting the Quaffle and scoring, I continue to score, as rain pelts down on me like needles, itching my skin and practically blinding my eyes.

Behind me the Bludger smashes into a Hufflepuff's broom and it shatters, sending her spiraling to the ground. The match goes on and lightning cracks above me, hitting one of my teammates, Angelina Johnson's broom, setting it on fire and her crashing towards the ground. The crowd starts up again as Harry soars by and after a glimmering ball, the Snitch. I catch another player getting harpooned by a stray umbrella and they hit the ground, just like the other two.

I look up and see Harry disappear into the clouds. After a moment, Harry's broom falls towards the Whomping Willow. I focus my eyes on the place he disappeared to flying swiftly to where he was going to fall. Harry's body comes spiraling down and I swoop over and catch his unconscious body in my arms, Guiding the broom to safely land on the Quidditch field. I step off my broom and leave it, rushing over to where Dumbledore stands in the field, most likely going to save Harry, before I did.

I yell to him over the storm and the crowd, "He looks the same as when the Dementor sucked some of the life out of him on the train! We need to get him to the Infirmary or to Professor Lupin!"

Dumbledore turns and I follow after him. We arrive at the Infirmary.

Madam Pomfry instructs me as soon as I come in with Harry, "Set him down here. Quickly now! He's not getting any better."

I huff and place Harry down lightly onto a bed. I take off his glasses and gently set them down on the nightstand beside him.

Madam Pomfry shoos me out, I pass Dumbledore and give him a hard glare. It's his fault that these damned Dementors keep trying to kill Harry. This man has done nothing to apologize to Harry or protect him either.

Some kind of Headmaster he is. Not even trying to do his job or help his obviously favorite student.