CHAPTER SIX:
Third Person P.O.V.:
Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.
"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Dumbledore addressed them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the Hall.
"I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the Hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added, looking specifically at Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important, "Send word with one of the ghosts."
Albus paused, about to the leave the Hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."
One casual wave of his wand, the long tables flew to the edges of the Hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of light purple sleeping bags.
"Sleep well," said Dumbledore, who had his eyes locked on his grandson before closing the door behind him.
The Hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.
"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouted Percy. "Come on now, no more talking. Lights out in ten minutes!"
"C'mon," Charlie said to Harry, Ron and Hermione; they seized four sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner.
"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously as she was setting up her sleeping bag.
"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," said Harry, causing Charlie to gulp.
The brown eyed boy was worried because if Sirius Black was in the castle, what would that mean for his grandfather? For goodness sakes, he was currently out looking for a murderer.
"It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," said Hermione, as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk. "The one night we weren't in the Tower..."
"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," Ron said as he looked up at the enchanted ceiling. "Didn't realise it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here."
Hermione shuddered in fear.
Charlie noticed this and he quickly, out of sight from Ron or Harry, reached out in front of him, where Hermione's sleeping bag was, and interlocked their hands. The bushy haired girl was startled at first from the contact, but it took her less than two seconds to realize who it was, and she was instantly calmed from his touch.
She turned over slightly to see his chocolate brown eyes staring back into hers which were accented with his famous comforting smile.
Hermione reciprocated his smile and then squeezed his hand slightly as a way of saying thank you. He gave her a little nod before breaking his gaze away from her and surveying the room; their hands still interlocked.
All around them, people were asking each other the same question, "How did he get in?"
"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," said Ravenclaw, Cho Chang from a few feet away. "Just appear out of thin air, you know."
"Disguised himself, probably," said a Hufflepuff fifth-year, that Charlie couldn't recognize in the dim light.
"He could've flown in," suggested Dean Thomas.
"Honestly, am I the only person who's ever bothered to read Hogwarts, A History?" asked Hermione crossly to her three friends.
"Probably," said Ron in a tone that, Charlie could assume, implied that the ginger had rolled his eyes. "Why?"
"Because the castle's protected by more than walls, you know," said Hermione simply.
"She's right. There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here." Charlie explained, causing Hermione to smile even wider at him. "I'd personally like to see the disguise that could fool those Dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in, too. Not to mention, Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered..."
"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking."
The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the Prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars.
After the lights went out, Charlie felt his eyes get heavy and soon enough, he let sleep overcome him.
Charlie Hawthorne almost went to sleep that night with a slight worry in his mind. The feeling was quickly demolished as the boy was reminded that his hand was still connected to Hermione Granger's as she gave his hand another small squeeze as a way to say goodnight.
----------------
A few hours had past, and Charlie groggily woke to the sound of Argus Filch's voice that rung throughout the Great Hall.
"I've searched the Astronomy Tower and the Owlery, sir, but there's nothing there."
Then, Professor Flitwick's voice spoke, "The third floor is clear too, sir."
Charlie raised his head slightly off of his pillow to make out the sight in the middle of the room. Professor Flitwick, Snape, and McGonagall stood there with Filch and his grandfather. The brown eyed boy assumed that they had just returned from their searches.
"Very good." Albus spoke contently.
Snape's slow voice spoke next, "I've search the dungeons, headmaster. No sign of Black anywhere else in the castle as well."
"Well, I didn't really expect him to linger," Albus sighed.
"Remarkable attempt, don't you think?" Snape said. "To enter Hogwarts castle, on one's own, completely undetected."
Albus nodded as the two of them walked down the pathway that was clear of students sleeping, "Quite remarkable yes."
"Any theories on how he might've managed?" Snape inquired.
"Many," Dumbledore spoke quickly. "Each as unlikely as the next."
"You may recall, prior to the start of term, I did express concerns of your appointment of Professor -"
Albus cut Snape off too quickly before Charlie could hear who the long-haired Professor was talking about. However, it didn't take genius to figure out that only two new teaching positions had been appointed this year; Lupin and Hagrid...
Surely Hagrid wouldn't...
But neither would Lupin...
Wait -
"Not a single Professor inside this castle would help Sirius Black to enter it," Albus dismissed. "I am quite convinced that the castle is safe, and am more than willing to send the students back to their dormitories."
"What about Potter? Should he be warned?"
Snape's comment made Charlie look in his friend's direction, expecting to see him fast asleep, but was quite surprised to see him listening as intently to the conversation as he was. The two young boys shared a glance, but didn't dare to move to let the Professors know they were listening in.
Dumbledore sighed, "Perhaps, but for now, let him sleep."
"What about Charles?" asked Snape in unamused tone. "I don't think it would be a far off guess to assume that your grandson will be poking around for answers. What will you tell him?"
"Nothing. There are no answers I can give Charlie that he doesn't already know himself. Sirius Black has failed to get into the common room, but the fear of the students lies within the mere attempt." Dumbledore said as he stopped in front of the corner where Charlie and his friends were stationed. "I have already contacted Fenwick about what has happened. He's insisted on sending more Dementors from Azkaban to prevent this from happening again. For now, let the students sleep, Severus. For in dreams, we enter a world that is entirely our own."
Then, Dumbledore left the Hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the Headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face, then he, too, left.
Harry glanced sideways at Charlie. Both of them had their eyes open reflecting on the starry ceiling.
"What was all that about?" Charlie mouthed, but all Harry could do was shake his head slightly in confusion.
--------------
The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.
The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat grey pony. Nobody was very happy about this. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.
The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team were training harder than ever under the eye of Madame Hooch. All of the teachers were on edge since Sirius Black's attempt to enter the Gryffindor common room.
At their final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood gave his team some unwelcomed news.
"We're not playing Slytherin!" he told them, looking very angry. "Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."
"Why?" chorused the rest of the team.
"Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances..."
There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Wood spoke, they heard a distant rumble of thunder.
"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's faking it."
"We all know that, but we won't be able to prove it," Charlie said bitterly.
Wood nodded his head as he continued, "And we've been practising all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new captain, Cedric Diggory. He's an excellent Seeker, so we mustn't relax! We must keep our focus. Slytherin are trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!"
"Oliver, calm down!" said Charlie, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously, aren't we guys?"
Angelina, Katie, Fred, George, and Harry all nodded as Oliver gave a narrowed glance in his team's direction for confirmation. With a relieved sigh, Wood nodded in understanding before kicking off the start of their last practice.
-------------
The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit.
Charlie had no room in his head to worry about anything except the match the next day. Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to him between classes and giving him tips. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that Charlie suddenly realised he was ten minutes late for Defence Against the Dark Arts. With this realization, the brown eyed boy had set off towards the classroom, leaving Oliver in the corridor by himself with a quick apology.
Charlie skidded to a halt outside of the classroom, pulled the door open, and dashed inside, "Sorry, I'm late, Professor Lupin! I -"
But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk; it was Snape.
"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Hawthorne, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."
But Charlie didn't move.
"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said with a raised brow.
"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"
Charlie sighed as he walked slowly to his regular seat and sat down next to Hermione, who for the first time this year, was in her seat like the boy expected her to be. She flashed him a small smile when he got himself situated next to her, to which he reciprocated instantly.
However, their little moment was cut short as Charlie could overhear Harry behind him.
"What's wrong with him?"
Snape's black eyes glittered.
"Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it was. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask any of you not to interrupt my lesson again, it'll be fifty."
The Gryffindor's in the room groaned loudly. The amount of House points Snape had taken away from them for his simple hatred for Harry and Charlie, or even Ron was ridiculous.
"Now," Snape said coldly. "Turn to page 394."
(A/N: RIP to Alan Rickman. This quote will forever be the most iconic in Prisoner of Azkaban.)
Charlie sighed as he took out his textbook and flipped to the page. He read the top of the page in his head -
"Werewolves?!" Ron yelped, unintentionally high from behind him.
"But, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "we're not supposed to start nocturnal beasts for weeks..."
"Be quiet," said Snape harshly. "Which one of you can tell me the difference between an animagus and a werewolf?"
Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air, but Snape blatantly ignored her, which caused Charlie to scoff in disbelief.
"No one?" Snape inquired with the twisted smile returning to his face, not even bothering to look around the room. "How disappointing."
"Please sir," Hermione spoke out of turn as she put her hand down. "An animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice. With each full moon, when they transform, they no longer remember who they are. They'd kill their best friend if he crossed their path. Furthermore, the werewolf only responds to the call of its own kind -"
The dramatic howling of Draco Malfoy from across the room, echoed on the walls.
Snape glared in Malfoy's direction, "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."
The long haired professor turned back to face Hermione, "That is the second time you've spoken out of turn Miss Granger. Are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"
Hermione went very red and stared at the desk in front of her with her eyes full of tears. It was a true mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, even Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week.
However, none of them had responded quite like Charlie had.
"You asked us a question and she knew the answer! Why ask if you didn't want to be told?" The boy yelled causing Hermione to snap her head in his direction with wide eyes.
The class knew instantly he'd gone too far.
Snape advanced on Charlie slowly, and the room held its breath.
"Detention, Hawthorne," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Charlie's. "And if I ever hear you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."
Snape walked slowly back up to the front of the classroom causing Charlie to roll his eyes.
"Absolutely ridiculous," the brown eyed boy muttered under his breath.
However, Snape has apparently heard him as he yelled, "What was that, Hawthorne?!"
Charlie gritted his teeth as he looked up to meet Snape's scowl, but as he was about to open his mouth to retaliate, Hermione grabbed his hand under the table.
The brown eyed boy sighed, taking his challenging gaze off of Snape. He knew that Hermione was requesting for him to stop, so for her benefit, he dropped it. And honestly? It was probably the right thing to do.
No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.
When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back.
"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognise and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning."
Harry groaned, "But we've got Quidditch tomorrow!"
But Snape wasn't going to sympathize - it wasn't in his nature.
"Then I suggest you take extra care, Mr. Potter," Snape scolded. "Loss of limb will not excuse you."
Severus walked back to the front of class and addressed everyone at once, "It is time somebody took this class in hand. Hawthorne, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."
Charlie groaned and put his head on his desk in frustration.
Hermione looked at him once more before leaving the room with Harry and Ron. It had meant a lot to her that she stuck up for her like that.
That was the thing about Charlie, you could always count on him to be there for you, regardless of the consequences he might face.
Charlie caught up with his friends five minutes later, in a towering rage.
"D'you know what that -" (he called Snape something that made Hermione yell "Charlie!") "- is making me do! I've got to scrub out the every cauldron in the potions classroom. Without magic!" He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. "Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh? He could have finished him off for us!"
---------------
The day of the match had finally approached. Charlie woke up Saturday morning feeling extremely tired after serving his detention the night before. Nonetheless, the excitement of the match had fuelled him for the day.
By mid-afternoon, Charlie had made his way to the Gryffindor changing room through the rough wind and rain. The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned them to follow him.
The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the pitch. If the crowd was cheering they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over Harry's glasses. How on earth was he going to see the Snitch in this? Hell, Charlie could barely see, and the Quaffle was triple the size of the Snitch.
The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the pitch, wearing canary-yellow robes. The captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded.
Charlie saw Madame Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount your brooms."
He pulled his right foot out of the mud and swung it over his broom. Madame Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant - they were off.
Within five minutes Charlie was soaked making his skin numb and frozen. He was hardly able to see his team-mates, let alone any Bludgers that happened to be flying towards him. He had already had a close call and the match had barely even started.
He flew backwards and forwards across the pitch, past blurred red and yellow shapes towards the Quaffle, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game.
He couldn't hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas. On two occasions, Charlie came very close to colliding with another player on the pitch, but tried to maintain focus on the Quaffle that was now in his hands.
He had managed to somehow score a couple of points, but lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early.
With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madame Hooch's whistle; Charlie could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing him to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.
"I called for time out!" Wood roared at his team as Harry had now joined them, his glasses covered in water. "Come on, under here -"
They huddled at the edge of the pitch under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes. Charlie shook his head like a dog to try and get his hair out of his face.
"What's the score?" Harry asked.
Charlie was curious as well. He knew there were a few times where both teams had scored, but had no idea who was winning.
"We're fifty points up, thanks to Hawthorne," said Wood proudly which caused Fred and George to practically jump on the brown eyed boy in happiness.
Charlie shrugged them off with a laugh before turning to Harry, "It doesn't matter unless you can catch that Snitch. If you don't catch it soon, we'll be playing well into the night, and who knows what'll happen then."
"I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses.
At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming.
"I've had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!" she said in an excited tone.
He handed them to her and, as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, "Impervius!"
"There!" she said, handing them back to Harry. "They'll repel the water!"
Charlie looked as though he could have kissed her.
Not that he would have...
Of course not!
They were just friends after all.
He was just really grateful...
"Brilliant!" Wood called hoarsely after her, as she smiled victoriously. "Okay, team, let's go for it!"
Before getting back out on the pitch, Charlie walked over to Hermione, who looked up at him standing in the rain with a blush on her face. Somehow, his wet appearance had just made him even more attractive.
The rain had made his jersey hug his body tighter than it was supposed to, which accented his muscly structure. His hair was wet and messy, but it actually looked perfect. He was covered in mud, and yet it just made him look more rugged and handsome.
Wait what -
God, what was happening -
"Nice of you to do that," Charlie beamed, causing Hermione to break way from her thoughts. "We're going to win because of you."
Hermione smirked playfully, "Now, don't you be getting cocky, Charlie. Game's not over yet."
Charlie laughed lightly, "Thats not cocky. That's just being confident."
The bushy haired girl just shook her head at him with a slight laugh as she watched him start to walk back on the pitch.
However, she was confused when he turned on his heel and approached her once again, this time getting closer than before. Before she realized what was happening, he leaned down under the cloak she was holding over her head, and gave her small kiss on the cheek.
Instantly, Hermione's entire face had flushed a bright shade of pink that would be, thankfully, hidden due to the extreme weather and its effects on one's eyes.
As Charlie pulled away, he gave the girl a playful smile before whispering, "For good luck. You know, just in case."
In that moment, as he walked away from her, Charlie felt a smirk creep up on his face. He couldn't believe he had just done such a thing, especially after things were just starting to get back to normal between them, but at the same time, he enjoyed it immensely.
Full of newfound determination and joy, Charlie urged his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Quaffle, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath Diggory, who was streaking in Harry's direction.
There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous.
Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly -
Charlie turned, intending to head back towards the middle of the pitch, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and simultaneously, both him and Harry saw something that distracted them completely; the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.
The boy's numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his broom dropped a few feet. Shaking his soaked hair out of his eyes once again, he squinted back into the stands.
The dog had vanished.
Charlie quickly looked to where he last saw Harry, making sure he saw the same thing he did. It was confirmed as the brown eyed boy saw his friend staring back at him with wide eyes.
"Harry!" came Wood's anguished yell from the Gryffindor goalposts. "Harry, behind you!"
Charlie watched the scenario happen in what seemed to be slow-motion; Harry looked wildly around while Cedric Diggory was pelting up the pitch, and a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air between them...
With a jolt of panic, Harry threw himself flat to the broom handle and zoomed towards the Snitch.
"Come on!" Harry growled at his Nimbus, as the rain whipped his face. "Faster!"
But something odd was happening.
As Charlie watched Harry go for the Snitch, an eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Charlie had gone suddenly deaf - what was going on?
And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving on the pitch around him; something that wasn't other players...
Before he'd had time to think, Charlie had taken his eyes off of his friend and looked around him.
At least a hundred Dementors, with their cloaked, hidden faces were staring at him. Suddenly, it was as though freezing water was rising in his chest, cutting at his insides.
Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Charlie's head, giving him déjà vu from the train.
What was he doing?
Why was he flying?
What was going on?
Then suddenly, Charlie saw Harry fall from the sky through the icy mist, and he was immediately pulled from his thoughts.
He started towards his friend on his broom, and had just barely reached him before Harry hit the ground. Charlie had managed to break the fall of his friend falling from almost one hundred feet by allowing Harry to fall on top of him.
As the two hit the ground, the Quidditch match had come to a halt, and a small crowd of teammates, and incoming students from the stands, including Ron and Hermione, came rushing over to them.
Charlie got to his feet slowly as moved Harry to the ground. He towered over his friend, only to see Harry unconscious, like he had been on the Hogwarts Express.
The brown eyed boy slapped his friend's face lightly, "Harry! Mate, come on! Wake up!"
As Harry didn't respond, Charlie addressed the crowd in a panic, "Quick! Someone get Madame Pomfrey!"
In the next moment, a huge flash of light had appeared around everyone and suddenly, all of the Dementors had scattered. Before Charlie could even question it, Professor McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey and his grandfather came pushing through the crowd.
The three adults instantly care to the young boy's aid. Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall had ended up carrying Harry to the hospital wing, while Albus stared at his grandson with concerned eyes.
Dumbledore pulled the boy into a bone-crushing hug, "Oh God... Are you alright, Charles? Please tell me you're alright."
"I'm fine," Charlie said was a small smile. "It's Harry, I'm worried about."
"Are you sure?" Dumbledore panicked. "Once Poppy is done with Harry, I'll have her check -"
Charlie pulled away from Albus' embrace with a reassuring smile, "I'm fine, really. What happened?"
"Those damned Dementors," muttered Albus, in a tone that seeped with anger. "I told your father that sending more of those foul creatures would do more harm than good, but he failed to listen -" He paused to shake his head in disbelief, "- Nonetheless, you go on now, check on Harry. I'll deal with this."
Charlie nodded as he turned to Hermione and Ron in the crowd. He led his two friends to the hospital wing, and the three of them, along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, awaited the news on Harry's well being.
--------------
"Lucky the ground was so soft."
"I thought he was dead for sure."
"He didn't even break his glasses - that's talent."
Harry could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he'd got there, or what he'd been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten.
"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."
Scariest... the scariest thing... hooded black figures... cold... screaming...
Harry's eyes snapped open.
He was lying in the hospital wing, and Charlie, Hermione, and Ron were standing over him while the rest of the Quidditch team stood at the foot of the bed.
"Harry!" Ron yelled relieved when he noticed he was awake. "How're you feeling?"
It was as though Harry's memory was on fast forward. The lightning... the Grim... the Snitch... and the Dementors...
"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.
"You fell off your broom," said Fred. "Must've been - what - a hundred feet? Good thing, good ol' Char, here, broke that fall of yours."
"We thought you'd died," said Hermione, who was shaking. She even made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.
"But the match," said Harry. "What happened?"
No one said anything.
The horrible truth sank into Harry like a stone.
"We didn't - lose?"
"Diggory got the Snitch," explained George. "Just after you fell. He didn't realise what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a re-match. But they won fair and square... even Wood admits it."
"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realising he wasn't there.
"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."
Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair.
They had lost...
For the first time ever, Harry Potter had lost a Quidditch match.
"It's alright, mate," Charlie said softly. "No one expected that to happen. Don't beat yourself up over it, you're still the best Seeker that Gryffindor has ever had."
After ten minutes or so, Madame Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.
The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them.
Madame Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Charlie, Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry's bed.
"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the pitch when you and Charlie hit the ground, then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium straight away... he was furious they'd come onto the grounds -"
Harry blinked. He was thinking about what the Dementors had done to him... about the screaming voice he heard as he fell. He looked up and saw his three friends looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.
"Did someone get my Nimbus?"
Charlie, Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.
"Well, you see -" Charlie began, but trailed off almost instantly.
"What?" said Harry, looking from one to the other.
"Well...when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly.
"And?"
"And it hit -it hit - oh, Harry -it hit the Whomping Willow."
Harry's insides lurched.
The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree which stood alone in the middle of the grounds.
"And?" Harry said, dreading the answer
"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It - it doesn't like being hit."
Harry groaned.
His faithful broomstick was undoubtedly destroyed.
After a moment of silence, Charlie tried to cut the obvious tension.
"You know," he began, "I'm starting to think Quidditch just isn't our sport. Seems like every game one of us nearly dies or, as Dobby would say, ends up gravely injured."
For the first time since he woke up, Harry smiled, giving Ron and Hermione the go ahead to laugh.
The four of them spent the night in the hospital wing together, just like they had done so many times before.
God, they might just be Madame Pomfrey's only patients at this point.
-------------
Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*
Hope you enjoyed!
I think I'm gonna make Prisoner of Azkaban linger than ten parts, simply because there is so much to explain. Not to mention, it's chapter six and we haven't even gone to Hogsmeade officially, yet.
So, it'll probably end up being like twelve parts instead of ten, which will probably be better in the long run.
Anyways!
[insert begging for votes and comments]
Much love to you all! Until next time!
xo, Selena