ad astra per aspera - {♕ f.w.}

11. A Magic Map

The contents of Snape's goblet did no harm to Lupin. The concoction, whatever it was, appeared to have the opposite effect to what you had expected. Lupin, while weary and ill-looking on Saturday, was in perfect condition come breakfast on Monday morning.

You couldn't help but worry. A sickness that required Snape's help had to be, in the simplest terms, absolutely horrible. The potions master had as much knowledge on magical healing as Madam Pomfrey. Only, Snape worked on the more sinister side of the spectrum, treating poison victims and fixing wounds inflicted by dark magic. Lupin had in no way sought him out to find a solution to a cough or common cold.

You would've much preferred to not think about Lupin's ailment, but you found it easier to ponder than the current Quidditch rankings. Although, wherever you went, Draco Malfoy did an exceptional job of reminding you of Gryffindor's brutal loss.

The Slytherins were beside themselves at your defeat. Their taunting continued long after everyone else had agreed the circumstances of Hufflepuff's win should have warranted a rematch. In the following weeks, Gryffindor had lost seventy house points due to several students (yourself included) starting fights with mouthy Slytherins.

Luckily, Malfoy's joy wasn't long-lasting. Near the end of November, Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in a long-anticipated match. Their loss put Gryffindor back in the running for the cup and the Slytherins back in their usual brooding moods.

Although sympathy for Cedric, you felt a petty excitement that his team had lost. Hufflepuff's sacrifice made Gryffindor taking the House Cup once again a possibility. It wasn't just you who had an almost positive outlook on the loss. Cedric himself, although disappointed, seemed relieved at the very least that Slytherin now had less of a chance of winning.

If there was one person who'd taken Hufflepuff's defeat exceptionally well, it was Oliver. As the last of the November sunshine turned into bitter December winds, he made it adamantly clear with every early morning practice that the Gryffindor team wouldn't let their second chance at the cup go to waste.

For all of November, you'd had six quidditch practices a week. Four after dinner until the sun had set, two in the morning before the sun had raised. You couldn't help but miss the defeated, wallowing in self-pity version of Oliver.

It was only after the first snowfall, two weeks before Christmas break, that he decided the team had worked hard enough. You stored your broom away in your dorm for a well-deserved break, not to be taken out until the pitch began to thaw.

As much as you enjoyed your practices, you hadn't felt comfortable on the pitch since your last game. As you flew high above the golden posts, your gaze often lingered over the stands and out past the ground boundaries.

The Dementors floated around slowly, set against the pale grey skies like dark ghosts. You had adopted a rather nasty habit of fumbling the quaffle every time you thought you saw the blur of a black cloak in your peripheral vision. You worried that by taking your eyes off the creatures, they'd disappear in the clouds and suddenly turn up on the field again.

Luckily, Dumbledore's absolute rage had clearly reinforced the message that they were not welcome near the school. They hadn't left their posts since Harry's fall, lingering hauntingly just outside their boundary line.

The Dementors were too far away to be the reason you could now see your breath as you walked through the courtyards. The frost that crackled on your dormitory window every morning was not Dementor-induced. Instead, like the conclusion of your Quidditch practices and the first snow, it was an indicator that the term was gradually drawing to a close.

The final week of classes went by tantalizingly slow. There was a buzz in the air from students and teachers alike as the Christmas holidays grew closer. Glittering frost covered the ground, and the Black Lake looked especially dark against the opaline white snow.