The first Quidditch match of the school year was drawing near. To all the Gryffindors frustration and anger, Slytherin had forfeited and they would be playing Hufflepuff instead.
Amisty didn't want to find out the reason why, but judging by the smug look on Malfoy's face as the weather grew worse and worse, she had a feeling he had used his 'injury' as an excuse again. The day before the match the weather had gotten so bad that teachers had to light extra candles so they could see in the dark corridors.
"Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!" Malfoy sighed, unfortunately saying it as Amisty was passing by.
She stepped on his foot rather harshly as she passed, her mouth curling up into a smile as he yelped.
They were headed down to Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a shock when she walked in and it was Professor Snape behind the desk.
She took a seat beside Ron and Hermione, Harry had been held up with Oliver Wood. Snape started talking almost instantly, the class silent and confused as he explained Professor Lupin's absence.
Ten minutes late, Harry burst in looking very disheveled.
"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I -- " He started before cutting off as he noticed Professor Snape.
"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down," Snape looked over at him, his voice silky.
"Where's Professor Lupin?" Harry asked sharply, not moving from the doorway.
"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today. I believe I told you to sit down?" He replied, sneering.
"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, once again not moving away from the doorway.
"Nothing life-threatening. Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty," Snape's eyes were gleaming.
Harry walked toward them slowly, taking his seat.
"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far -- " He started up once more.
"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows, and we're just about to start -- " Hermione explained quickly.
"Be quiet. I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization," Snape cut her off coldly.
"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean announced loudly, getting a few soft murmurs of agreement from the rest of the class.
Snape looked murderous.
"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you -- I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss -- " He flipped through the textbook lying open in front of him, turning all the way to the back to where they had never even gotten close to reading. " -- werewolves."
"But, sir, we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks -- " Hermione protested.
"Miss Granger, I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394. All of you! Now!" Snape ordered, his eyes narrowed.
Amisty opened her textbook, whispering quite a few colorful words under her breath.
"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish the difference between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape asked, his voice frigid.
Her grip tightened around the cover of her book, her fingers twitching. Hermione's hand went straight up into the air.
"Anyone? Are you telling me Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between -- " Snape asked bitterly.
"We told you, we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on -- " Parvati interrupted, looking sour.
"Silence! Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." Snape sneered.
"Please, sir, the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf -- " Hermione started, her hand never leaving the air.
"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all," Snape looked very cold as he said it.
Amisty felt her jaw tick as Hermione flushed, her hand slowly sinking down, and her gaze shifting to the floor.
There was a sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes. Furious, Amisty glared at the teacher, as well as the rest of the class.
"You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?" Ron snapped, not bothering to keep his voice down.
Silence fell over the class as Snape approached his desk, eyes blazing.
"Detention, Weasley. And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again you will be very sorry indeed," His words were deadly.
The rest of the lesson was silent, everyone writing their notes on werewolves silently. Snape would slide by their desks, making comments on the work they had done for Professor Lupin.
"Very poorly explained... That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia... Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three..."
When the bell finally rang, the relief that spread throughout the class was apparent.
He held them back.
"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention," He announced.
The three of them left the room, waiting out of earshot for Ron to come out.
"Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job. Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because of the boggart?" Harry snapped angrily.
"I don't know. But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon..." Hermione nodded, taking care not to say anything rude.
"This is ridiculous, two rolls of parchment?" Amisty threw up her hands, tugging on her hair in frustration.
Five minutes later Ron joined them, his face crimson with fury.
"D'you know what that -- " Amisty's eyes went wide at what he called Snape, though she couldn't deny she hadn't considered saying it as well, " -- is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. Without magic! Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh? He could have finished him off for us!"
-=+=-
The next morning was the Quidditch match. The rain was pouring heavily, pounding against the windows of the castle. By the time she had gotten down to the Great Hall for breakfast the Gryffindor team was already gone.
They ate their food quickly and then huddled underneath Hermione's umbrella as they headed off to the Quidditch field. It was bitter cold, the rain practically falling in sheets down toward the ground and the wind sending it crashing over onto everyone who set foot outside.
They took their seats, hunching their backs against the wind, and watched in silence as the teams entered the field. If they could talk they would but there was no way they would be able to hear each other in the weather. The Captains shook hands, and the team's mounted their brooms and went soaring into the air. She couldn't hear anything other than the roaring wind in her ears and the rain splattering across the ground, it took all of her self-control to not curl up into a ball and block out everything.
Harry was zooming around up high, a flash of scarlet in the grey, somehow managing to hold out through the fierce wind. He was flying in circles, almost colliding with the other players. There was a lightning flash and the sound of a whistle.
Everyone dipped down from the air but Amisty couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Hermione, I don't think he can see with his glasses," Amisty yelled to her friend, desperately trying to be heard over the rain.
"I'm on it," Hermione shouted back, throwing her cloak over her head and trudging over to the team.
She headed back, smiling and nodding to Ron and Amisty's silent question.
The timeout ended and they were back up in the air once more. Harry seemed to know what he was doing now, looking around determinedly for the Snitch. Until he froze, his hands slipping on the handle and his broom dropping a few feet. Amisty watched, concerned until he flattened himself to the broom and rocketed off after Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain and her concern vanished.
And then the stadium went quiet, a suffocating silence on Amisty's ears as a wave of cold washed over her already numb body. Once again she dragged her knees up to her chest, trying to ignore the crying and shouts and images flashing across her vision.
The dementors were back, and then she was glad that there was rain. It meant there wouldn't be too much worry focused on her, no one could see her very well.
Shudders moved through her body, images of that same silver wolf, except this time it was lying on the ground, its light slowly dimming and the darkness seeping into its beautiful coat.
She stifled a sob with her hand, screwing her eyes shut tight. And then it was gone, the cold disappeared just as quickly as it had come in the first place.
There was muffled yelling, and then Amisty felt a gentle shake on her shoulder.
"Amisty, Amisty, Harry fell. He's on the ground, please, look up for me, please," It was Hermione.
She forced open her eyes, blinking away the remainder of the tears and looking up at her pale-faced friend.
"What? What happened?" Amisty asked fearfully, her heart forgetting to beat at the news.
"The dementors are gone, but... Harry... it was such a long fall..." Hermione's voice was shaking, and she herself looked on the verge of tears.
"No, no no no. He's not dead, Hermione, please tell me he's not dead," Amisty pleaded, her throat constricting sharply as she got to her feet.
She peered down at the pitch, the rain still falling and umbrella long forgotten. Harry was lying on the ground, his eyes closed with his glasses slipping off his nose and mouth parted open slightly.
She couldn't stop the cry that left her mouth. Professor Dumbledore strode toward his limp body, waving his hand and gently placing him on top of a stretcher. The Headmaster was stony-faced as he walked up to the school, the stretcher floating beside him.
"We need to go, come on," Ron appeared out of nowhere, all the color drained from his face as he grabbed them by their wrists and dragged them after the retreating Headmaster.
Amisty was struggling to breathe correctly, her eyes stinging and her stomach aching painfully.
She wiped at her eyes furiously, trying to remain calm as they entered the castle and up to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was already setting to work, grabbing a set of dry clothes from a drawer and lighting the fireplace with a flick of her wrist. Amisty sunk into an armchair, her fingers shaking uncontrollably as she struggled to keep her emotions straight.
"I'm going to speak with the dementors, Poppy, take care," Professor Dumbledore nodded to the nurse, cold anger in the undertones of his voice.
She nodded, her mouth a thin line as Harry was set down on one of the many gurneys, the sheets inching up so they covered his soaked form. They drew the curtains around the bed and Ron helped Madame Pomfrey in changing him into warmer, dry clothes.
Hermione had taken a seat beside Amisty, tears running freely down her cheeks and quiet sobs escaping her lips. They clutched hands, Amisty fighting down her own emotions and Hermione barely keeping quiet. Ron joined them, his jaw set. It didn't take long for the Gryffindor team to come in, all covered in mud and terrified.
Oliver wasn't there, though.
Professor Flitwick came in as well, a bag clutched in his hand that he gave to Madame Pomfrey, his face sad.
Madame Pomfrey gave it to Amisty.
"It's what's left of his broomstick... it got blown into the Whomping Willow," She whispered softly, pressing the bag into her hands.
Amisty could barely hide her shock. Harry had loved that broom. Hermione and Ron stared at the bag, their eyes wide and hopeless.
"Lucky the ground was so soft."
"I thought he was dead for sure."
"But he didn't even break his glasses."
"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."
Those were a few of the whispered things the team said as they crowded around the gurney, leaving muddy footprints.
Amisty and Hermione got to their feet, joining Ron in the empty space beside Harry's bed. And then his eyes opened, brilliant green and full of life. Amisty breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back to wipe her flooded eyes.
"Harry! How're you feeling?" Fred was the first to speak, his own face devoid of color. Well, as much as Amisty could see through the mud.
"What happened?" Harry asked, sitting up abruptly and drawing quite a few gasps from everyone.
"You fell off. Must've been -- what -- fifty feet?" Fred replied.
"We thought you'd died," Alicia nodded, her voice shaking just as much as she was.
Hermione squeaked in fear, Amisty squeezed her hand tightly.
"But the match. What happened? Are we doing a replay?" Harry fired out the questions, eyes wide. No one replied.
"We didn't -- lose?"
"Diggory got the Snitch. Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square... even Wood admits it," George spoke at last, looking slightly disappointed.
"Where is Wood?" Harry asked, glancing around at them.
"Still in the showers. We think he's trying to drown himself," Fred commented lightly, trying and failing to bring the mood up.
Harry buried his head in his knees, tugging on his knotted hair in frustration.
"C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before," Fred reassured him, shaking him on the shoulder roughly.
"There had to be one time you didn't get it," George added reassuringly.
"It's not over yet. We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin..." Fred was thinking hard.
"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," George pointed out sullenly.
"But they beat Ravenclaw..." Fred offered.
"No way, Ravenclaw is too good, But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff..." George nodded.
"It all depends on the points -- a margin of a hundred either way -- " Fred shrugged, running a hand through his hair.
Harry just sat there, looking shocked and lost.
Ten minutes later Madame Pomfrey ushered them away, looking at the mud they tracked in with a very unhappy expression.
"We'll come and see you later. Don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had," Fred called as he was leaving, giving him a broad grin.
"Dumbledore was really angry. I've never seen him like that before," Hermione started as they got closer to Harry's bed. "He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away... He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We hear him -- "
"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher. And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were..." Ron picked up the story, his voice trailing off.
"Did someone get my Nimbus?" He asked suddenly. All three of them traded uneasy glances.
"Er -- " Ron rubbed the back of his neck.
"What?" Harry looked at them, confused.
"Well... when you fell off, it got blown away," Hermione replied slowly, her words sticking in her throat.
"And?" He pressured.
Amisty took it upon herself to tell him, "It... It hit -- Harry, I'm so so sorry, it hit the Whomping Willow."
His face fell, "And?"
"Well, you know the Whomping Willow. It -- it doesn't like being hit," Ron blinked, not looking at him.
"Professor Flitwick came by with it just before you woke up," Amisty leaned down, wincing, and picked up the bag.
Not able to look him in the eye as she did it, she turned the bag upside down at let the remains of his once beautiful broomstick fall onto the bed. All that was left were a few pieces of shattered wood with jagged edges and a twig.
She spared a glance at his face. He looked absolutely heartbroken.