d 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 

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Quidditch in the evenings. Out on the field with only Your team members, 
it's very exposed, Potter --" 

"We've got our first match on Saturday!" said Harry, outraged. "I've got 
to train, Professor!" 

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 as Seeker in the first Place. He waited, 
holding his breath. 

"Hmm..." Professor McGonagall stood up and stared out of the window at 
the Quidditch field, just visible through the rain. "Well... goodness 
knows, I'd like to see us win the Cup at last... but all the same, 
Potter... I'd be happier 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 was 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 unwelcome 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 arm's 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...." 

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

"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's 
faking it!" 

"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Wood bitterly, "And we've 
been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and 

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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?" said Wood, frowning at this lighthearted behavior. 

"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 is a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the 
Snitch in about five minutes, remember?" 

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Wood shouted, his 
eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's 
an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't 
relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We 
must win!" 

"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking 
Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously." 

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 
was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy. 

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

Harry had no room in his head to worry about anything except the match 
tomorrow. Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to him between classes and giving 
him tips. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that 
Harry suddenly realized he was ten minutes late for Defense Against the 
Dark Arts, and set off at a run with Wood shouting after him, "Diggory's 
got a very fast swerve, Harry, so you might want to try looping him --" 

139 


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

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin. I --" 
But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's 
desk; it was Snape. 


"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten 
points from Gryffindor. Sit down." 
But Harry didn't move. 


"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said. 
"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a 
twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?" 


But Harry stayed where he was. 
"What's wrong with him?" 
Snape's black eyes glittered. 
"Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it 


were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit 


down again, it will be fifty." 
Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the 
class. 


"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," 
said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start --" 


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

140 



"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," 
said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the 
rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever. 

"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 --" 

Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, 
which he must know they hadn't covered. 

"Werewolves," said Snape. 

"But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're 
not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks --" 

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the 
impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you 
all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. '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. 

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose 
hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. 

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. 
"Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the 
basic distinction between --" 

"We told you," said Parvati 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 recognize a werewolf when they saw 
one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very 
behind you all are...." 

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"Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was 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 more points from Gryffindor for being an 
insufferable know-it-all." 

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with 
her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed 
Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had 
called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione 
she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us 
a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be 
told?" 

The class knew instantly he'd gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron 
slowly, and the room held its breath. 

"Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. 
"And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you 
will be very sorry indeed." 

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made 
notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down 
the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor 
Lupin. 

"Very poorly explained... That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly 
found in Mongolia.... Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I 
wouldn't have given it three...." 

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back. 

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you 
recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment or, the 
subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took 
this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your 
detention." 

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Harry and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited 
until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade 
about Snape. 

"Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defense Against the 
Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry said to 
Hermione. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because 
of the boggart?" 

"I don't know," said Hermione pensively. "But I really hope Professor 
Lupin gets better soon...." 

Ron caught up with them five minutes later, in a towering rage. 

"D'you know what that --" (he called Snape something that made Hermione 
say "Ron!") "-- is making me do? I've got to scrub out the bedpans in 
the hospital wing. Without magic!" He was breathing deeply, his fists 
clenched. "Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh? He 
could have finished him off for us!" 

Harry woke extremely early the next morning; so early that it was till 
dark. For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken him. 
Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and sat bo