The Return

Chapter 16: Quidditch practice and a crappy DADA lesson

(Not my art, found it off google :D) 

The next day things were more...different...

The Fat Lady's ripped painting had been taken of the wall and had been replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his plump grey pony. Sir Cadogan spent half of his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously long passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

"He's barking mad!" Complained Seamus Finnigan angrily to Percy, "Can't we get anyone else?"

"None of the other portraits wanted the job, and only Sir Cadogan was brave enough to volunteer," replied Percy.

Sir Cadogan was the least of Harrison's worries, he was now being closely watched by the Teachers and prefects. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with him and Percy Weasley was tailing behind him like a pompous dog.

 To top it all, Professor McGonagall summoned him into her office with a somber expression on her face he thought someone must have died!

"There's now no point hiding this any longer Potter," she said in a very Sirius voice. "I know this will come as a big shock to you, but Sirius Black-"

"I know he's after me, I heard Ron's dad telling his mum. Mr Weasley works for the ministry," Salazar replied bluntly.

Professor McGonagall seemed very taken aback. She stared at Harry for a moment or two, then said, "I see! Well, in that case, Potter, you'll understand why I don't think it's a good idea for you to be practicing Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the pitch with only your team members, it)s very exposed, Potter-"

"We've got our First match on Saturday! I have to train Professor!"

Now, just because Salazar has regained his memories, doesn't mean his love for Quidditch will change.

Professor McGonagall considered him intently. Harry knew she was deeply interested in the Gryffindor team's prospects; it had been she, after all, who'd suggested him to go on the team in the first place. He waited, holding his breath.

"Hmm..." Professor McGonagall stood up and stared out the window at the Quidditch pitch, just visible through the rain. "Well...goodness knows, I'd like to see us win the Quidditch Cup at last...but all the same, Potter, I wish if a teacher were present. I'll ask Madam Hooch to oversee your training sessions."

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer.   Undaunted, the Gryffindor team were training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. Then, at their final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood gave his team some unpleasant 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 arms 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 of winning..."

There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Wood spoke, they heard a distant rumble of thunder.

"There is anything really wrong with Malfoy's arm, Madam Pomfrey can mend bones in a minute," Harry stated semi-annoyed.

"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Wood bitterly. "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're laying against Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory-"

Angelina, Alicia and Katie suddenly giggled.

"What?" Wood said, frowning at the light-hearted behaviour.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?" Said Angelina.

"Strong and silent," said Katie, and they started to giggle again.

"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," said Fred impatiently. "I don't know why you're worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff are a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions," Salazar butt in. "I was the Seeker at that time, and now it's Angelina. I've managed to see a few of Hufflepuff'd practices and we can't layback and relax, Diggory, is a pretty good Seeker, I won't lie."

"God Harry, calm down!" Exclaimed Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff seriously, seriously?"

Harry sighed before saying," It's best if we don't underestimate them, they've gotten way better."

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. The Slytherin team were looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy (much to Salazar's dismay)

"Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!" He sighed as the gale outside pounded the windows.

Oliver kept hurrying up to Angelina and Harry to give them tips for their new positions before, during and after classes. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that they both were ten minutes late for class. They both set off with a run while Wood shouted "try kicking the Quaffle into the goals!"

Salazar skidded to a halt outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, pulled open the door and dashed inside.

"My apologies of my lateness, Professor Lupin, I-"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin that looked up from the teachers desk; it was Snape.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

He knew that complaining was going to get Gryffindor get more points take down, and he didn't need that same mistake to be done twice.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far-"

Hermione shot her hand up, having a bad feeling while making eye-contact to Neville and Harry.

"What, Miss Granger!?" Snaps snapped at her.

"Sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas and Grindylows," said Rowena calmly with a tick mark on her forehead. No one, meaning no one, snaps at the Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Be quite," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organisation."

Shape was asking to feel the wrath of Hermione, and that's what he was going to get.

"Oh you sure about that? At least his teaching is more organised than your appearance!" She growled with her arms crossed, glaring.

"Miss Granger! Twenty points from Gryffindor!" Snape yelled at her, his black eyes narrowing, dangerously. "As I was saying, You brats are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly over-taxing you. I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss-"

Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very end, which he must know that they hadn't covered. Soon realisation dawned upon his face as his head snapped towards Hermione, both sharing the same thought 'Werewolves?  The class might find out, if they're smart enough, that Professor Lupin is one!'

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four," Snape said, his voice deadly calm. He glanced around," All of you, NOW!"

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Said Snape.

Yup...

This is going to be one long lesson...