The Girl Who Lived

Chapter 36

The doors to Hogwarts closed, teachers securing the doors as Dementors flew in from seemingly everywhere - ready to attack Sirius Black at any moment should he make himself known on school grounds. The students slept in the Great Hall that night, Dumbledore and Professor Snape quietly talking to each other as they walked between the sea of sleeping mats. 

"-What about the Potters? Should they be warned?" Snape's voice uttered quietly as they walked past the girl. "Perhaps," Dumbledore sighed. "But for now, let them sleep... for in dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own. They could swim the deepest ocean... or fly above the highest clouds..." the elder whispered, Raven getting slightly nauseous at the thought of being so ridiculously high. But she took a deep breath, rolling onto her stomach and stared at the ceiling, magicked to look like the night sky. It was small scenes like that that made her wish she had her sketchbook again. Unfortunately, it was in the dormitory they weren't allowed to enter that night.

The next morning, Snape stormed into Lupin's class, clearly in a bad mood. With a few swishes of his wand, the windows of the classroom flew shut, and he pulled on a rope to bring down the projection screen. "Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four." he spoke quietly, dark eyes scanning the classroom. Raven sat in front of Draco in this class (unfortunately), and she glanced over to her brother who sat in the middle column and in the first row. She saw the empty seat, green eyes glancing towards Harry. Hermione wasn't anywhere in the room. She flipped through the pages, quickly finding the correct page number. "Excuse me, sir." her brother's voice spoke quietly as Snape had started walking past him. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

Snape hesitated for a moment... but only for one moment. "It's not really any of your concern, is it Potter?" he replied before resuming his walk. "It suffices to say that your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four." he spoke, a bit more sternly, waving a wand towards her ginger friend who still hadn't reached the page number.

"Werewolves?" The Weasley muttered, Hermione speaking up. "But sir, we've just begun learning about Recaps and Pixies. We aren't meant to learn about nocturnal creatures for weeks." Raven blinked. The girl wasn't there a moment ago... she was surprised the girl had gone into class without anyone noticing or saying anything. "When did she come in? Did you see her come in?" Poor Ron voiced her thoughts... sometimes she wondered what kind of torture Hermione put her friend through. "Now," Snape's voice got a bit louder. "Which one of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?"

Hermione's hand shot up. "No one? How disappointing." The man sighed, overlooking the girl's eagerness to answer. Raven knew what a werewolf was - probably not all that she should know, but she was somewhat knowledgeable in that particular subject. She had read way too many horror books in her school's library. An Animagus, though, she had never heard of. "Please sir, an Animagus is a witch or wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A Werewolf has no choice. With each full moon, when he transforms, he no longer remembers who he is. He'd kill his best friend if they crossed his path. Furthermore, the werewolf only responds to the call of his own kind."

Draco, in the spur of the moment, howled. Snape was just as unimpressed as Raven. Perhaps even more so - but they had the same look of annoyance. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." he spoke sarcastically, turning back to Hermione. "That is the second time you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Are you incapable of restraining yourself, or do you pride yourself in being an insufferable know-it-all?"

"He's got a point, you know..." Ron muttered to Harry. "Five points from Gryffindor." He spoke, turning to walk back towards the front of the class and announcing their homework for the week. Two pages on werewolves, with particular emphasis on recognizing one. "Sir, it's Quidditch this week." Harry spoke up. "Then I suggest you take extra care, Mr. Potter. Loss of limb will not excuse you."