Sirius and Gemma led the rest of the Slytherins back to the Great Hall.

“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle. 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,” Professor Dumbledore ordered, the moment all the students were gathered in the Hall. “Send word with one of the ghosts. Oh yes, you’ll be needing…”

He waved his wand and the five long tables (one for each of the houses and one for the staff) stood themselves against the walls. He waved his wand again and hundreds of purple sleeping bags appeared on the floor.

“Sleep well,” Dumbledore added, then left the Great Hall.

Percy Weasley, Ginny’s older brother and Head Boy, ordered us into our sleeping bags.

Blaise, Alex, Anja and I grabbed sleeping bags and went over to a corner of the Hall. I looked out the window and in the grounds, the ‘Grim’, followed by Crookshanks, appeared to be fleeing from the castle.

That seemed suspicious. Why would a dog be running away from the castle?

All around us, everyone was discussing how Sirius Black had managed to get into the castle.

I felt sorry for Sirius Malfoy. He jerked around every time someone said the word ‘Sirius’.

Anja and Alex lay a few feet away from us, whispering.

I turned to Blaise. “I’ve got something to tell you…”

I told him all about Holly seeing the Grim in my cup, me seeing the Grim out in the grounds twice, and Sirius Black not being a Death Eater, at least according to Father.

Blaise just stared at me. “Whoa…”

I nodded. “Accurate comment.”

He grinned. “When there’s trouble, why do you always have to be around? In our first year, you managed to get the Philosopher’s Stone. In our second you were right in the thick of it, being the Heir of Slytherin.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Trust me, it’s not a good thing. And it’s not like it gets me any attention, all the attention goes to Harry.”

Blaise put a finger to his lips and motioned for me to turn around.

I did.

Anja and Alex were curled up together.

“Apparently Black possibly still being in the castle doesn’t worry them,” he observed.

Oh well.

At least they were happy.

***

For the next few days, Sirius Black was the only topic of conversation.

Our next Anti-Dementor lesson went very well, with Alex managing to produce a Patronus. His was a wolf.

Anja and Blaise both succeeded in conjuring indistinct Patronuses. I had no trouble in summoning my Barn Owl Patronus.

Lupin was extremely pleased, saying that even an indistinct Patronus was very difficult to produce.

***

Our first Quidditch match – against Gryffindor – was fast approaching.

But when Anja and I turned up at practice, Draco’s arm was still in a sling and Flint was looking extremely happy.

“What?” Anja and I asked together in confusion.

“We’re not playing in the upcoming match,” Draco informed us.

I knew fully that Draco was only faking his injury.

“What?” I gasped.

Flint grinned trollishly. “Well, Draco’s injury is still healed, and” – he lowered his voice – “the weather is too difficult to play in.”

That was a reasonable argument, except…

“Are we allowed to drop out of the match just because the weather is too difficult?” Anja asked, addressing Sirius.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He grimaced. “But Flint is the Captain, he makes the decisions.”

Flint smirked. “That’s right, Malfoy.”

“So who’s playing Gryffindor, then?” I enquired, changing the subject.

“Hufflepuff,” came the reply.

***

As the rest of the week passed, despite my guilt, I was kind of glad that we weren’t playing in the upcoming Quidditch match.The weather only got worse.

The day before the match, we went into Defense Against the Dark Arts to find Father there instead of Professor Lupin.

Everyone was confused.

Ten minutes later, Harry came bursting into the classroom. “Sorry I’m late, Professor Lupin, I –”

I suspected he had been held up on Quidditch-related grounds.

Father looked up with total hate on his face.

I had never understood why Father hated Harry so much. “This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we’ll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down.”

But Harry didn’t move.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” he demanded, asking the question we had all had in our minds.

“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today. I believe I told you to sit down?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

Father glared.

“Nothing life-threatening,” he replied coldly, though the expression on his face suggested that he would like it to be. “Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.”

Father then raved on about how bad a teacher Lupin was.

I wondered why Father hated Lupin so much.

“Today we shall discuss –” He flicked through the book, right to the end. “– werewolves.”

Hermione looked up, frowning. “But, sir, we’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start Hinkypunks –”

“Miss Granger, I was under the impression that I was taking this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page three hundred and ninety-four.”

I opened my book to page 394, beginning to read through the text.

“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?” Father asked the class.

I quickly scanned the passage for the answer, but Hermione’s hand had already shot into the air. I abandoned my search.

“Anyone?” Father asked, looking over at me. “Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn’t even taught you the basic distinction between –”

“We told you, we haven’t got as far as werewolves yet, we’re still on –” Pavarti began, but was interrupted.

“Silence!” Father snarled. “Well, well, well, I never thought I’d meet a third-year class who wouldn’t even recognise a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…”

We wouldn’t even recognise a werewolf when we saw one?

Was Father expecting us to see a werewolf?

“Please, sir, the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several ways. The snout of the werewolf –” Hermione recited.

“This is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” Father commented coolly. “Five more points for being an insufferable know-it-all.”

Now that was just unfair.

I could tell Father was in a particularly bad mood.

Ron asked loudly, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?”

We all went quiet. That was not a good thing to say.

“Detention, Weasley. And if I ever hear you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.”

I began making notes on the chapter on werewolves. Werewolves’ human forms are generally ill around the time of the full moon each month.

Bored, I glanced out the window. There was a full moon right now, I observed with interest.

Which meant that people who were sick at the moment could be werewolves.

Professor Lupin was ill at the moment! I realised with a start.

And now I thought of it, he was sick quite regularly – at every full moon, in fact.

Lupin was a werewolf…

And his Boggart was a crystal ball – or was it?

It could also be the full moon.

It made complete sense…

At the end of the class, Father gave us a two-roll-long essay on the ways of recognising and killing werewolves.

After the class, I turned back time as usual.

I was interested to see what would happen tomorrow.

***

There was a thunderstorm.

Luckily, in the Common Room, we were under the lake, so it wasn’t nearly as noisy.

We went to the match, despite not supporting a particular team.

It started off fine – Gryffindor was winning, and by the time Wood called for time out, they were 50 points ahead.

In the Gryffindor section, I suddenly saw a flash of movement. Hermione was running down to the pitch.

She went under the shelter where Gryffindor were and re-emerged a few seconds later, looking considerably happier.

The game continued. There was a flash of lightning. I looked over to the opposite side of the pitch and that was when I saw it.

The Grim.

But when the lightning faded, I couldn’t see the dog anymore.

I looked back up at the game. Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter were racing towards what I assumed was the Snitch.

But all of a sudden, everything went quiet.

I somehow knew exactly what was causing this.

Dementors.

I could feel myself beginning to slip into the vision of my father telling me that my mother was dead.

But I would not let that happen. I pictured my father smiling and stood up at exactly the same time as Alex.

“Expecto Patronum!”

The Dementors retreated, but there way too many of them to be discouraged by a couple of thirteen-year-olds’ Patronuses.

I looked up just in time to see Harry fall off his broom.