Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors 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 investigation of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told us as Minnie 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 Head 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." 

Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, then 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; 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!"

Like I could possibly sleep.

"C'mon," Ron said to Harry, Hermione, and I; we grabbed four sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner.

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

"Dumbledore obviously thinks so," I said, realizing there is no way I could get away with being quiet.

"It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," said Hermione as we climbed fully dressed into our sleeping bags and propped ourselves up 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."

Or he never wanted to hurt us. But why then would he come bursting into the castle? Think, Clara! If it's not Harry, and he's innocent, what would cause Dad to break into the school? Could it have something to do with this proof Mom needs? Hermione shuddered.

All around us, people were asking one another the exact 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 one who's ever bothered to read Hogwarts: A History?" Hermione says crossly to Harry, Ron, and I.

"Probably," I say. "Why?"

"Because the castle is protected by more than just 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. . . ."

Filch doesn't know all of them. Unless he figured out  how to work the map, which I highly doubt.

"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 lights now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting around talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with starts. With that, and the whisperings of fellow students that still filled the hall, I felt like I was camping with 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, (I certainly wasn't one of them) Dumbledore came in. I watched him looking around for Percy, who had been patrolling between the sleeping bags, telling people off for talking. Percy was only a short ways away from Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. We all quick 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 open again, and more footsteps.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. I stayed still, listening. "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 shifted my body so I was laying on my back both ears free.

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

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before-ah-the start of term?" said Snape.

"I do, Severus," said Dumbledore, and there was something like a 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-"

He's trying to imply Uncle Lupin let Dad into the castle. Yeah, like Uncle Lupin would let a killer into the castle.

"I do no 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?" asked Percy.

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

I opened my eyes and glanced over at Ron, Harry, and Hermione. all three of them had their eyes open too, reflecting the starry ceiling.

"What was that all about?" Ron mouthed.

*Time Skip* By Nearly Headless Nick's Ruffles

The school could talk of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he got in got crazier and crazier. Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, was telling anyone who'd listen during our Herbology lesson that Dad could transform into a flowering shrub-it took all my self-control to not laugh so much that it hurt. I think I might have cracked a rib. 

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Codogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was happy about this. Sir Cadogan spends 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, is the last of my worries. I'm more worried about being alone. Every time I walk through a hallway alone, there are people who decide it's funny to bump into me, or say they'll call the dementors to take me to Azkaban. Their reason? I'm Clara Black. That means I should be punished for my last name. The day before the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match was the worst.

"Leave me alone!" I snap at a seventh year Slytherin, who'd just bumped into me so I fell down, dropping my bag and spilling my books everywhere. "I'm innocent!"

"What are you going to do, Black? Call Daddy?" she says in a baby voice.

I take a deep breath. I look up at the girl in the eyes.

I say slowly. "I. Don't. Need. Dad. To. Fight. For. Me. Not like you, Your Highness."

We were the only two students in the hall. Everybody else had already gone to class.

"That's real funny, Black." The Slytherin girl says. "You've got a real sense of humor."

She shoves me, catching me completely off guard. I fall into the wall and I scraped my face on a jagged piece of brick.

"Listen up, and listen good, Black." The Slytherin girl smiles. "Nobody is ever going to be on your side. Ever! You can convince yourself that people with stick up for you. They won't. Do all of us a favor and drop out already."

"Sure, when you stop wearing so much makeup that you make clowns jealous." I say, smirking. I'm not going to let her get to me.

She raises her fist. I duck and she punches the wall. She glares at me.

"You're not worth the time." she says. 

She leaves. Now I've got a small scrape on my cheek, I'm ten minutes, and annoyed.

I gather up all my scattered books, shove them into my bag, and take off running for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I skidded to a stop in front of the door. To my surprise, Harry did the same.

"What happened to you?" we asked at the same time.

"Wood held me up. You?"

"Tripped down some stairs." I said, pointing at my scrape. "My books fell down three staircases."

We both dash inside.

"Sorry, Professor Lupin, I-" Harry and I say.

But it wasn't Uncle Lupin who was sitting at the teacher's desk; it was Snape.

Oh, right. . .full moon. But why Snape? Why, Dumbledore, why?

"The lesson began fifteen minutes ago, Potter, Black, so I think we'll make it fifteen points each from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But Harry and I didn't move.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Harry asks.

"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 and I still stood there.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked. Does he know?

"Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you both again, it will be fifty each."

Harry and I walked slowly to our seats and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

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

I bet he did and Snape just ignored them.

"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 Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," I defended, and there was a murmur of agreement from everyone else in the class. Snape looked even more grumpy and 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 played with my quill as I watched Snape flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know we haven't covered. Trying to make us seem stupid. 

"-werewolves," said Snape.

He's not trying to make us seem stupid. He's trying to get Uncle Lupin exposed.

"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 deathly 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 looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books. This class is going to drag on forever isn't it?

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

Everyone sat in motionless silence, except Hermione and I, who both raised our hands.

"Anyone?" Snape says as he blatantly ignores Hermione and I. He's an awful teacher. "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. . . ."

"Hard to be behind when we weren't even supposed to start the lesson yet." I said with my head on my arms. "Besides, Hermione and I knew the answer."

"Silence, Black, or it'll be a detention." Snape snaps.

I thought students are supposed to participate in class. Isn't that part of getting an education? Whatever. I'm to busy trying not to go to sleep.

"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 coldly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went red as a fire truck, put down her hand, and stared down at a crack in her desk, eyes brimming with tears. It is a tribute to how much the class detests Snape that we were all glaring at him, because all of us have called Hermione a know-it-all at least once. Hell, I do it at least three times a week, and I was about to jump to her defense, but Ron beat me to it.

Ron practically shouted, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

We all knew he went too far, but I was proud of him. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and everyone held their breath.

"Detention, Weasley," said Snape silkily. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you'll be very sorry indeed."

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the class. We sat and made notes on werewolves from aisles between the desks, examining the work we'd done for Uncle Lupin.

"Very poorly explained. . .That is incorrect, Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three. . . ."

Well you're a bitter jerk, so. . . .

When, at last, the bell rang, Snape held us back. Please let us leave! We were good. . .at the end.

"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 on 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."

I'm not doing the homework. I don't care about the punishment. Harry, Hermione, and I left the room with everyone else, 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 and I. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because of the boggart?"

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

"Don't we all." I say sadly. Hurry back Uncle Moony! 

Ron caught up with us five minutes later, in a towering rage. No surprise.

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

I smiled, "Maybe we can owl him directions to the office. Then if he breaks in again he'll have a better target."

"Clara! You could get in serious trouble for that!" Hermione exclaims.

First off, ha ha ha, 'Sirius' trouble. "Jeez, Hermione, I was kidding. I wouldn't actually owl him."

Hermione sighs. One of these days I will make her lose her mind.

*Time Skip* The Magic Number Seven (A.N Siriusly, just think about it)

Today's the day of the big game. Of course it would be raining. It was hard to see anything from between the pouring raindrops. The wind was so bad that it nearly ripped umbrellas from students hands. Hermione, Ron, and I stood under an enormous black umbrella in the stands. 

"Can you see the team?" I asked Ron and Hermione.

"I can't be sure. . . ." Hermione says, squinting through the rain.

"I see them!" Ron called. "The Hufflepuff team too!"

The crowd cheered, as they squinted through the rain at the Gryffindor team, in scarlet robes, and the Hufflepuff team, in canary-yellow robes, came to meet each other from opposite ends of the field.

Thunder rumbled around us. Madam Hooch spoke, but there was no possible way to hear her. Then she raised her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant-they were off.

It was hard to see much of anything in this rain. Every now and then Harry almost collided with other players. How can he see? The rain surely is pelting his glasses.

"We're never going to win this way!" Ron says. "Harry'll never catch the Snitch in this rain."

"I have and idea!" I shout, giving Ron the umbrella. "I know how to help us win! I'll be right back!"

I run from my area of the bleachers down to the pitch. I wave at Oliver, and shout, "Call time out!"

It took a few tries to get his attention, and get him to understand what I was asking. Just as the first flash of lightning appeared, Madam Hooch blew the whistle again. The whole team splashed down into the mud.

"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at his team. "Come on, under here-"

They huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; I followed as Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes.

"What's the score?" Harry asks.

"We're fifty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."

"I've got no chance with these on," Harry says exasperatedly, waving his glasses in the air.

"So hand them over, Harry!" I say. "I've got an idea."

He handed them to me, and as the team watched me in amazement, I pulled my wand from my boot and tapped Harry's glasses with my wand and said, "Impervius!"

"There!" I said handing them back to Harry. "They'll repel water now."

I thought Wood might kiss me. I won't complain.

I started back over toward the stands. Wood called after me hoarsely, "Brilliant, Clara! Okay, team, let's go for it!"

It seemed like it worked. From my seat between Ron and Hermione in the stands, it appeared as if Harry were able to see loads better. He swerved around Bludgers and ducking beneath Cedric Diggory, the Seeker for the Hufflepuffs (He's kinda cute). 

There was another clap of thunder, followed right away by another forked bolt of lightning. This is getting really dangerous. Why did the teachers even let them play today? Harry, please find the Snitch before you're all struck down by a bolt of lighting. the smart students screamed.

Harry's Nimbus dropped a few feet. Is he alright?

"Harry!" Wood yelled at the top of his lungs. "Harry, behind you!"

Coming up behind Harry was Cedric Diggory, and he was chasing something. The Snitch! Go Harry!

As Harry chased after Diggory and the Snitch, dementors broke onto the field. All across the stadium, people went quiet, as the chill the dementors brought swept over us one by one. Even the wind seemed to silence itself as about a hundred dementors came onto the field, and stared right at Harry.

Harry looked, down and slipped off his broom.

A shout of "Harry!" came from around the entire stadium.

*Time Skip* By Teddy's Blue Hair

"Lucky the ground was so soft." Fred commented.

We were sitting in the hospital wing waiting for Harry to wake up.

"I thought he was dead for sure." George continues.

"He didn't even break his glasses." I sigh, shaking my head. "Good God he's lucky."

Harry had his eyes closed as he lay on the hospital bed. Hermione was biting her nails and Ron just looked shocked. I leaned up against the window, watching anxiously.

"That was the scariest thing I've seen in my life." Angelina says.

Harry's eyes snapped open. I came over to the bed from my position near the window, still dripping from the rain of course.

"Harry!" said Fred, who was extremely pale from underneath the layer of mud. "How're you feeling?"

"What happened?" Harry asked, sitting up so suddenly that the team, Ron, Hermione, and I gasped. Don't risk it, Harry. You just defied death. Don't push your luck.

"You fell off," said Fred. Thanks, Sherlock. I had no idea. " Must've been-what-fifty feet?"

"We thought you died," said Alica, who was shaking.

I'm not wandering down that rabbit hole again. "But you didn't. Always knew you were the luckiest guy in Hogwarts."

Hermione, who had been crying since we got up here, made a small sort of squeak.

"But the match," Harry said. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

None of us answered him. Harry figured out the truth. "We didn't-lose?"

"Diggory got the Snitch," said George. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square. . .even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" Harry asked, seeming to just realize he wasn't here. What took so long, Potter?

"Still in the showers," I answer. "Fred and George think he is trying to drown himself. One of you boys really should go check on him." I added, looking at Ron, Fred, and George.

"I'm sure he's fine." Ron says.

Harry put his face to his knees, hands gripping his hair.

Fred grabbed his shoulder and shook it.

"C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before."

"There had to be one time you didn't get it," said George.

"It's not over yet," I say. "Gryffindor lost by a hundred points. So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and you guys beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin. . . ."

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw. . . ." Fred starts.

"No way. Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff. . ." George shuts him down.

"It depends on the points-a margin of a hundred either way-" I say. 

Harry said nothing, still wallowing in the After-Loss-Of-Game-Pity.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, still looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione came closer to Harry's hospital bed as I sat down on it.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. Then they left the stadium right away. . . .He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him-"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to the school with you floating on it."

"Everyone thought you were a goner. . . ." I said quietly. That's a scary thought. Harry dead. I'd miss my cousin.

Get away from the rabbit hole! He's fine, you idiot!

"Did someone get my Nimbus?" Harry asked.

Ron, Hermione, and I looked quickly at each other. What do we tell him?

"Er-"

"What?" said Harry, looking from one of us to the next. 

"Well. . .when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione delicately.

"And?"

"Well it hit-it hit-oh, Harry-it hit the Whomping Willow."

His face dropped. I know he's remembering the Whomping Willow. Hard to forget the time you crashed into a tree with a magic car and the tree hit back.

"And?" he asked, already knowing but dreading the answer anyway.

"Well you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It-it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," I said sadly.

I reached down for the bag sitting at the foot of the bed and overturned it onto Harry's bed. Dozens of splinters fell from the bag, the only remainders of Harry's old broomstick.

Song: "Whispers in the Dark" by Skillet

I don't own the song, Skillet does. I don't own the video, please give credit to Martijn Geert on YouTube. I don't own the characters or plot to Harry Potter. All I own is Adam, Clara, Jamie, Frisk, and Emma.

:)