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Aurora Areli
I WAS SURE THAT no one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. The castle was being searched again, so we all stayed awake in the common room in hopes that we would hear whether or not Black had been caught. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall came back at dawn to tell us that he had escaped again.
The following day, it was clear that Hogwarts was under tighter security than ever. I saw Professor Flitwick teaching the front doors to recognise a portrait of Sirius Black and Filch boarding up cracks in the walls. Sir Cadogan had also been sacked, and the Fat Lady was back on the condition that she was given extra protection. That meant that a bunch of surly security trolls were hired to guard her.
Ron had become an instant celebrity. Though he was still severely shaken from the night's events, he was finally getting more attention than Harry, and it was clear that he was enjoying it. If anybody asked, he was happy to tell his story in full detail.
After telling a group of second-year girls what had happened, Ron turned to Harry and I and asked, "Why, though? Why did he scarper?"
I frowned; I had been wondering the same thing. Sirius Black had proven twelve years ago that he had no problem murdering innocent people, so why hadn't he just silenced Ron when he realised he had the wrong bed before moving onto Harry?
"He must've known he'd have a job getting back out of the castle once you'd yelled and woken people up," Harry said thoughtfully. "He'd've had to kill the whole house to get back through the portrait hole . . . then he would've met the teachers . . ."
After thinking about the fact that Sirius Black, a mass murderer, had been inside Gryffindor Tower, the place where we slept, I shuddered. I couldn't wait for him to be caught.
On another note, poor Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him that she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the Tower. And as if that wasn't bad enough, two days after Black's break-in, Neville's grandmother sent him the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast — a Howler.
I was sitting across from him, next to Harry and Ron, when a huge barn owl swooped down with the scarlet envelope clutched in its beak.
"Run for it, Neville," Ron advised.
Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope and sprinted out of the Hall, holding it before him like it was a bomb set to explode. When he reached the Entrance Hall, the magically amplified voice of Neville's grandmother could be heard, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.
I didn't have much time to feel sorry for Neville, though, because my attention was quickly averted by Harry nudging my arm. When I looked over, I saw that he had a note:
