Fear of a Name

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Werewolves

"Remus," Professor McGonagall said, sounding relieved, "Albus has just gone to look for you five, I shall have to tell him that you're here..."

Professor Dumbledore? I thought, aiming it directly at Dumbledore in an effort to make contact with him.
Miss Riddle, how—
I'm a legilimens, sir.
I see. Whereabouts are you?
I've just got to the great hall with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Professor Lupin, sir.
Then I shall stop looking for you all. Goodnight.
Goodnight, Sir.

"How I'm going to do that, I don't know," Professor McGonagall continued.
"I've just told him, Professor," I said quietly. "He said he'll stop looking for us."
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lupin and McGonagall all turned to look at me.
"Don't be foolish, Miss Riddle," McGonagall said, looking at me sternly. "You have been here the entire time."
I did tell him, Professor.
I had aimed the thought directly at her, and she jumped about a foot off the ground.
"Sorry," I apologised quietly, "I really need to start warning people when I'm going to do that..."
"But — how—" she started.
"Magic."

Just then, someone came walking up to us.
"I want a word, Riddle."
"Malfoy, I really don't—"
Before I could finish my sentence, he grabbed my arm and started pulling me into the entrance hall.
"Ok, fine, but just quickly," I growled, pulling my arm away from him. "And I can walk by myself, thanks."

I followed him through the entrance hall and into an empty corridor, where he suddenly slammed me against a wall and held his wand to my throat.
"If you tell anyone else about anything I do to you, I'm going to be telling Aunt Bella, understand?" he hissed at me, and I nodded quickly. I could tell that this was no empty threat, but even if it was, I didn't particularly want to try my luck — Mother was mad enough at me already.
"And in the meantime—"
His fist made contact with my face, and the sound of bone breaking could be clearly heard as he broke my nose for the second time that day.

"Not a word to anyone, Riddle," he said, before swaggering back to the Great Hall, looking extremely pleased with himself.
I followed him, trying to fix my nose and get rid of the blood completely before anyone saw and asked me what had happened.
Why's he so obsessed with breaking my nose, anyway? That's twice today! Twice!

I had just wiped the last of the blood away from my face as I got to the Great Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talk about the attack on the Fat Lady had only just died down by the following Friday.

I was sitting in the DADA classroom, looking at Snape a little fearfully as he sat behind the teacher's desk at the front of the room, practically giving us a speech about how Lupin hadn't left any notes about anything we'd done.
"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I—" Harry started to say as he burst into the classroom, but he stopped as soon as he saw Snape.
"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

Harry didn't move.

"Where's Professor Lupin?"
"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said with a twisted smile.
Yeah, definitely nothing to do with the fact it's a full moon tonight.
"I believe I told you to sit down?"

Harry still stayed where he was.

"What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing life threatening," Snape said, his black eyes glittering, and his expression clearly showing that he wished it was. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry finally walked to his seat and sat down as Snape looked at us all.
"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"
"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," Hermione started, and I mentally facepalmed, "and we're just about to start—"
"Be quiet," said Snape, the tone of his voice making me shiver slightly. "I did not ask for information, I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organisation."
"He's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas, and a murmur of agreement rippled through the classroom.

Snape's expression became even more menacing.
"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you — I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss—"
He flipped to the back of the textbook, and my sense of foreboding increased dramatically.
"—werewolves. Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four."

"But, sir," said Hermione, apparently unable to stop herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks—"
"Miss Granger," said Snape in a deadly calm voice, a voice I had come to fear, a voice that I associated with pain. "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."
He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"

I quickly flipped to the back of my textbook, putting a mask over my fear so nobody could tell what I was truly feeling. It was a skill I had almost perfected in the long hours spent in the dungeons during our potions lessons with Slytherin.
"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape, and I suddenly realised where he was going with this lesson.

He was going to try and get us to work out Lupin's secret.

Hermione's hand shot into the air immediately, but everyone else stayed silent and unmoving.
"Anyone?" Snape said with a twisted smile, ignoring Hermione's hand. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"
"We told you," said Parvati Patil suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"
"Silence!" snarled Snape. "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 Dumbledore how very behind you are..."

"Please, sir," said Hermione, her hand still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"
"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know it all."
Hermione went bright red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor. I could tell she was trying not to cry.
My anger overpowered my fear, and I said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

We all knew instantly that I had gone too far.