Dawn Rivera

Flight of the Fat Lady

In no time at all, Defence Against the Dark Arts has become most people's favourite class. Only Draco Malfoy and is his gang of Slytherins have anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

"Look at the state of his robes," Draco will say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passes. "He dresses like our old house-elf."

I scold him at times like this. Our relationship isn't at all what I thought it would be. Then again, what did I think it would be?

But no one else cares that Professor Lupin's robes are patched and frayed. His next few lessons are just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, we study Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurk wherever there has been bloodshed, in the dungeons of castles and the portholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who got lost. From Red Caps we move on to Kappas, creepy water-dwellers that look like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting wanders in their ponds.

I only wish I was as happy with some of my other classes. Worst of all is Potions. Snape is in a particularly vindictive mood these days, and no one is in any doubt why. The story of the Boggart assuming Snape's shape, and the way that Neville dressed it in his grandmother's clothes, has travelled through the school like wildfire. Snape doesn't seem to find it funny. His eyes flash menacingly at the very mention of Lupin's name, and he is bullying Neville worse than ever.

I am also growing to dread the hours I spend with Harry and Danny in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lop-sided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes fill with tears every time she looks at Danny and Harry. I can't like Professor Trelawney, even though she is treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown have taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunchtimes, and always return with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they know things we don't. They have also started using hushed voices whenever they speak to Harry and Danny, as though they are on their deathbeds.

Nobody really likes Care of Magical Creatures which, after the action-packed first class, has become extremely dull. Hagrid seems to have lost his confidence. We are now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after Flobberworms, which have to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" says Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the Flobberworms' slimy throats.

At the start of October, however, Harry has something else to occupy him, something so enjoyable that it certainly makes up for his unsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season is approaching, and Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor team, calls a meeting one Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

There are seven people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it is to score goals by putting the Quaffle through one of the fifty-foot high hoops at each end of the pitch; two Beaters, who are equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers; a Keeper, who defends the goalposts, and the Seeker, who has the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ends the game and earns the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

Oliver Wood is a burly seventeen year-old, now in his seventh year at Hogwarts. If Seeker wasn't Harry's position, I think Danny'd be asking Oliver for the job himself. He seems very interested in that particular position.

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Harry returns to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, looking cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice went, to find the room buzzing excitedly. Danny? Not so much so. He's just come from a long nap since all his extra studies have left him feeling exhausted and he looks confused as he is awakened. But, for real, he's not the only one with extra work.