Dawn Rivera

The Marauder's Map

Madam Pomfrey insists on keeping Harry and Danny in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. They don't argue or complain, but they won't let her throw away the shattered remains of Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand. I think they're just being silly. It's a broomstick! I'm grateful they're alive.

Ron, Hermione and me only leave Harry and Danny's bedsides at night. But nothing anyone says or does seems to make the pair feel better, perhaps because they only know half of what is troubling them.

Harry nor Danny have mentioned the Grim - for I know Danny saw it too - not even to Ron, Hermione and me, probably because they know Ron will panic and Hermione and me will scoff. I mean, come on - we all saw it. The fact remains, however, that it has now apparently appeared twice, and both appearances have been followed by near-fatal accidents; the first time, Harry was nearly run over by the Knight Bus and heavy crates fell on top of Danny's head; the second, Harry falls fifty feet from his broomstick and Danny about thirty feet from the balcony. Is the Grim going to haunt them until they actually die? Are they going to have to spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders for the beast?

Of course not. I'm alright, aren't I? Physically, at least.

But then there are the Dementors. I feel sick and humiliated every time I think if them. Everyone says the Dementors are horrible, but no one collapses every time we go near one...no one else hears echoes in their head of their dying parents, in Harry's case, and the whipping post screams that I'm sure Danny hears. I've been thinking it over.

They must know who those screaming voices belong to now. They must hear their words, hear them over and over again.

As for Draco and me, we're not speaking. Although I'm upset I've lost a friend, I'm relieved I'll never have to face Gregory again. Not too close up, anyway, I'll still see him around school...just not as much. So that's OK.

I'll get over him, I think. I have to.

******************************************

It is a relief to return to school on Monday to the noise and bustle of the main school, where I am forced to think about other things, even if Harry and I have to endure Draco Malfoy's taunting. Malfoy is almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor's defeat. He has finally taken off his bandages, and celebrates the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Harry falling off his broom and of me falling from the balcony. Malfoy spends much of our next Potions lesson doing Dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracks, flinging a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hits him in the face abs causes Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

"If Snape's taking Defence Against the Dark Arts again, I'm going off sick," says Ron, as we head towards Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione, Dawn."

Hermione and I peer around the classroom door.

"It's OK!" I say.

Professor Lupin is back at work. It certainly looks as though he has been ill. His old robes are hanging more loosely on him and there are dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiles at us as we take our seats, and we burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behaviour while Lupin has been ill.

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves -"

"- two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" says Professor Lupin, frowning slightly.

The babble breaks out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind -"

"- he wouldn't listen -"