Professor Dumbledore sent us all back to the Great Hall, where we were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told us as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; Some of the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouted Percy. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon," Ron said to Harry, Hermione and me; we seized three sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," said Ron.

"It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," said Hermione as we climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped ourselves on our elbows to talk. "The one night we weren't in the tower..."

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," said Ron. "Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here."

Hermione shuddered.

I remained deadly silent.

All around us, people were asking one another the same question: "How did he get in?"

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," said a Ravenclaw a few feet away, "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," said a Hufflepuff fifth year.

"He could've flown in," suggested Dean Thomas.

"Honestly, am I the only person who's ever bothered to read Hogwarts, A History?" said Hermione crossly.

"Probably," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because the castle's protected by more than walls, you know," said Hermione. "There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can't just Apparate in here. And I'd like to see the disguise that could fool those Dementors. They're guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They'd have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret passages, they'll have them covered..."

"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, I felt as though I were sleeping outdoors in a light wind.

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the Hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Professor Dumbledore came in. I watched him looking around for Percy, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking. Percy was only a short way away from our corner, and we quickly pretended to be asleep as Dumbledore's footsteps drew nearer.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" asked Percy in a whisper.

"No. All well here?"

"Everything under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?"

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr Filch restore her."

I heard the door of the hall creak open again, and more footsteps.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. I kept quite still, listening hard. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched..."

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" asked Snape.

I raised my head very slightly off my arms to free my other ear.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

I opened my eyes a fraction and squinted up to where they stood; Dumbledore's back was to me, but I could see Percy's face, rapt with attention, and Snape's profile, which looked angry.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before -- ah -- the start of term?" said Snape, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

"I do, Severus," said Dumbledore, and there was something like warning in his voice.

"It seems -- almost impossible -- that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed --"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," said Dumbledore, and his tone made it so clear that the subject was closed that Snape didn't reply. "I must go down to the Dementors," said Dumbledore. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" said Percy.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore coldly. "But I'm afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am Headmaster."

Percy looked slightly abashed. Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape stood for a moment, watching the headmaster with an expression of deep resentment on his face; then he too left.

I looked at my friends, the three of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

"What was all that about?" Ron mouthed.

I merely shrugged.

***

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of our next Herbology class telling anyone who'd listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub.

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

"He's a complete lunatic," said Seamus Finnigan angrily to Percy. "Can't we get anyone else?"

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," said Percy. "Frightened of what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

Sir Cadogan, however, was the least of our worries. Harry was now being closely watched. Teachers found excuses to walk along corridors with him, and Percy Weasley was tailing him everywhere like an extremely pompous guard dog. To cap it all, Professor McGonagall summoned Harry into her office. I tagged along because I'm cool like that.

Her expression looked as though someone had died.

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

"I know he's after me," said Harry wearily. "I heard Ron's dad telling his mum. Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry of Magic."

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 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 and I both 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.

"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."

I smiled at Harry and McGonagall turned her head to me.

"Why are you even here?" She asked with that 'lost hope' look she always had when she looked at me.

"Because it's easier me just being here rather than complaining about not being here and wasting more time." I said in one breathe.

McGonagall looked satisfied with that answer.

***

George stomped back from Quidditch practice.

"What's wrong?" I asked him as he threw himself into a chair beside me.

"We're playing Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin because of Damage to the seeker's arm!" he said snappily.

"Doesn't matter I'm sure you'll kick their arses...If you don't die in this weather." I added looking out the window.

The whole Gryffindor Quidditch team was pissy about it, fair enough.

I tried to brighten their moods by pointing at Soxy and Crookshanks who were playing...well, I think Crookshanks wanted him dead, but you know, it was still cute.

***

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.

"I can injure something else so you don't feel your arm hurting." I suggested to him with a sugary sweet smile.

I sat down with Ron and Hermione in Defence Against the Dark Arts because Harry was held up with Oliver Wood.

The door flung open and Snape walked in.

"I'll be teaching you today." He said cruelly.

There was an epic moan from the class, none louder than mine.

Snape's dark eyes narrowed in on me, and I beamed.

"Do you have a Problem miss-" he stopped himself from saying Tree.

Hehehehe.

"Do I look like I have a problem sir?" I answered with a question.

He didn't have anything to say to that, so he sat down at Lupin's desk.

Harry skidded into the classroom. "Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin. I --"

He noticed it was Snape and looked as though he had just been shot.

"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 the seat beside Hermione 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 --"

Wait, he hadn't been saying anything. What a GRONK!

"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."

"He's the best Defence 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 --"

I 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!"

"BUTTHEAD!" I shouted and looked down as if I hadn't said anything.

"Five points from Gryffindor." He said cruelly.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor." I said to confuse him.

We all opened our 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..."

"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?"

This is why I ship them.

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."

And Then my imagination popped up.

"Just because you're a shitty bastard, doesn't mean you have the right to take it out on us." I spoke loudly and strongly.

Judging by the look on his face, I decided it would be safer to throw myself into a pit of dragons.

"How-?" Snape snarled.

"How dare I? How dare you sir! You come in here criticise everyone you have ever met, and then you get all sulky when someone says anything mean to you. You can dish it out sir, but you can't take it! Grow up!" I said louder in a deadly tone. I just got up and left.

My imagination is pretty awesome if I do say so myself.

I actually just sat there and did my work.

~~*Willow's Diary*~~

Dearest Diary of extremely awesome nonsense and boringfulness,

I have a few questions.

Why isn't 'why' spelt 'y'?

Why do I imagine random things that are somewhat plausible but never to be recited unless I have a perfect excuse to save myself from certain death?

Why did I use so many big words?

Why am I even writing a diary entry?

I don't even have anything to write about!

LLAMA

LLAMA

DUCK

-Willow-