Very quickly, Defense Against the Dark Arts became everyone's favourite subject. Keeping to his promise, Professor Lupin moved the class from studying Boggarts to Red Caps, goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed, ready to attack any lost, unsuspecting persons. From Red Caps they moved onto Kappas, creepy, water dwelling creatures with long, scaly, webbed hands lurking to drag people into watery depths. The more time Gwen spent in Professor Lupin's classes, the more she liked and trusted him. She couldn't help wondering, however, what it was that his Boggart had turned into. She had only seen it for a brief moment, but she was convinced that it was the moon. Lavender had mentioned that it looked more like a crystal ball, but Gwen knew what she had seen.
The only people that didn't like Professor Lupin were Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.
'His robes look like what my old House Elf used to wear,' Malfoy sneered once in a Potions class, but nobody else cared what Professor Lupin wore. He was, by far, the best teacher they had ever had.
Potions classes continued to get worse and worse. The only thing that Gwen could look forward to in them was seeing Theo. Snape had clearly heard the news of what had happened in the Boggart class and was continuing to bully Neville, only worse than before.
Gwen couldn't bring herself to enjoy Divination, where Professor Trelawney spent every class eyeing Harry with teary eyes. Gwen couldn't help rolling her own eyes every time Trelawney looked at their table. Lavender Brown, Clara Culpeper and Parvati Patil, however, had become Professor Trelawney's best friends, it seemed, spending most of their lunches up in her classroom, descending every time with annoying, superior looks on their faces. Whenever they spoke to or about Harry, they would do so in hushed, gentle voices as though he were on his deathbed. Gwen could see how much Harry hated this, and she and Hermione had spent practically every night in their dorm rolling their eyes at each other whenever the three girls would begin discussing him.
Care of Magical Creatures had become quite boring too. Hagrid, having completely lost his confidence, spent lesson after lesson teaching them how to take care of Flobberworms.
'Who even would want one of these?' Ron said in one lesson, in a hushed voice. 'Their useless.' He stuffed some lettuce down his Flobberworm's slimy throat.
At the start of October, however, Gwen and Harry had something much more fun to think about. The new Quidditch season was beginning, and Oliver Wood, Keeper and Captain of the Gryffindor team, called a meeting one Thursday evening to discuss new tactics.
Oliver was a burly seventeen year old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a kind of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow teammates in the chilly changing rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch Pitch,
'This is our last chance-- my last chance-- to win the Quidditch cup,' he told them, pacing up and down in front of them. 'I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it. Gryffindor haven't won for seven years now. OK, so we;ve had the worst luck in the world; injuries, then the tournament getting called off last year...' Oliver swallowed as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. Gwen, her teeth chattering, shifted guiltily in her seat next to Katie Bell.
'But we also know,' Wood went on, 'That we've got the best-- ruddy-- team-- in the-- school--' he punched one hand into the other, his eyes overcome by that familiar manic glint. 'We've got three superb Chasers,' he pointed to Gwen, Katie and Angelina Johnson, 'Two unbeatable Beaters.'
'Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us,' said Fred and George together, pretending to blush.
'And,' Wood went on. 'We've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!' He glared at Harry with a kind of furious pride. 'And me,' he added, as an afterthought.
'We think you're very good, too, Oliver,' said George.
'Cracking Keeper,' said Fred.
'The point is,' Wood went on, resuming his striding back and forth, 'the Quidditch cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. Then Gwen came along and I thought, "this is it". But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance well get to finally see our name on the thing...'
Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.
'Oliver, this year's our year,' said Fred.
'We'll do it, Oliver!' Gwen said.
'Definitely,' said Harry.
From that day on, full of determination, the team started training sessions three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, and Gwen came back to the dorms almost every night covered in mud. But no amount of mud, wind or rain could tarnish Gwen's vision of the Gryffindor team finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.
Gwen and Harry returned to the common room one evening, soaked through and stiff, but very pleased with themselves after the practice. The room was buzzing excitedly, everyone chattering away.
'What's happened?' Gwen asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside, completing some star charts for Astronomy.
'First Hogsmeade weekend,' said Ron, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old notice board. 'End of October. Hallowe'en.'
'Excellent,' said Fred, who had followed Gwen and Harry through the portrait hole. 'I need a visit to Zonko's, I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets.'
Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron. Gwen sat down next to Hermione, noticing his dejected look.
'I'm sure you'll be able to go next time, Harry,' Gwen said.
Hermione nodded. 'Yes, they're bound to catch Black soon, he's been sighted once already.'
'Sighted?' Gwen said.
'Yes, not far from here,' Hermione explained. 'It was in the Daily Prophet a couple of days ago. It was a Muggle who called the telephone hotline.'
'There you go, Harry,' Gwen said. 'They'll catch him soon.'
'Anyway, Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade,' Ron added. 'Ask McGonagall if you can go Harry, the next one might not be for ages--'
'Ron!' said Hermione. 'Harry's supposed to stay in school--'
'He can't be the only third year left behind,' said Ron. 'Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry.'
Harry sighed. 'Yeah, I think I will.'
'The worst that can happen is she'll say no,' Gwen said, then lowered her voice. 'You can always bring out the invisibility cloak.'
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment, Crookshanks leapt up lightly onto her lap, a large, dead spider dangling from his mouth.
'Does he have to eat that in front of us?' Ron said, scowling.
'Clever, Crookshanks,' said Hermione, ignoring him. 'Did you catch that all by yourself?' Gwen reached over to stroke Crookshanks' long, ginger fur.
'Just keep him over there, that's all,' said Ron irritably, turning back to his star chart. 'I've got Scabbers sleeping in my bag.'
Gwen yawned. She wanted to go to bed, but she and Harry both had to complete their own star charts. She settled closer to the fire, her damp hair slowly drying in the heat, and took out her own star chart.
'Here, you can copy mine,' said Ron, finishing labelling his last star, then pushing it across the table so that both Harry and Gwen could see. Hermione, who disapproved of copying, pursed her lips, but said nothing. On her lap, Crookshanks was still staring unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his long, bushy tail. Then, without warning, he pounced.
'OI!' Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deeply into it, tearing ferociously. 'GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!'
Ron tried to pull the bag away from the cat, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing. Gwen reached for her wand.
'Ron, don't hurt him!' Hermione squealed. The whole common room was watching; Ron whirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top--
'CATCH THAT CAT!' Ron yelled; Crookshanks had freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table and chased after the terrified Scabbers.
George Weasley made a lunge for Crookshanks but missed; Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs, shot beneath an old chest of drawers; Crookshanks followed, Scabbers came speeding out from underneath, headed toward an empty corner, Crookshanks hot on his heels--
'Immobulus!'
A loud bang echoed around the room, Gwen's wand pointing directly at the two, now frozen in place, animals. Calmly, she moved from her place beside the fire, going to get hold of them, but Ron and Hermione beat her to it, each running to their respective pets and taking hold of them. When Ron and Hermione both had hold of them securely, Gwen flicked her wand to undo the charm.
'Look at him!' Ron said furiously, holding Scabbers in a ball at his chest. 'He's skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!'
'Crookshanks doesn't understand it's wrong!' said Hermione, her voice shaking. 'All cats chase rats, Ron!'
'There's something funny about that animal!' said Ron, who was trying to persuade Scabbers, who was shaking frantically, back into his pocket. 'It heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!'
'Oh, what rubbish,' said Hermione. 'Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else d'you think--'
'That cat's got it in for Scabbers!' said Ron, ignoring the people around him who were starting to giggle. 'And Scabbers was here first, and he's ill!'
Ron marched out of teh common room and up the stairs to the boys' dorms. Hermione, her hands trembling, joined Gwen and Harry back at their table. The rest of the common room turned away, going back to whatever it was that they were previously doing.
'Honestly,' Hermione said. 'He's acting as though I set Crookshanks up to it.' She stroked the cat in her lap, who was now purring affectionately.
Gwen sighed. 'You can't blame him for being upset, Hermione.'
'But it's not Crookshanks' fault!'
'I'm not saying it is. It's just one of those things.'
Hermione sighed. She, Gwen and Harry continued their homework, until finally, deflated, Hermione went up to bed. Gwen followed, grateful for a refreshing shower. Sleep found her easily.