A Memorable Tale

22 | Werewolf Prejudice

At the beginning of the year, I was under the impression that Care of Magical Creatures would be my favourite class, but so far, I had come to enjoy Defence Against the Dark Arts far more.

After the incident with Draco and Buckbeak, Hagrid seemed to have lost all his confidence, and made us take care of flobberworms, which were really only good for squashing or putting into fritters, although the latter wasn't a very popular use.

Potions had remained miserable as Snape continued to torment Neville, far more severely, if I might add. It was probably a childish grudge like most of his annoyances with students.

With Quidditch season rolling around, Cedric had been seen less and less in the corridors, likely trying to organize his team.

Draco, on the other hand, wasn't doing much practicing. Rather, he was moaning and groaning about his nonexistent but somehow excruciating wound that he had gotten a month before.

Madam Pomfrey was just about through with him, as she kept insisting that he was fine and the sling he kept his arm in was unnecessary weeks ago. Most people in other houses agreed, but the entirety of Slytherin continued to say that he was severely injured.

At most, there might be a scar, but he refuses to actually show anyone what's beneath the bandages.

"How do you plan on playing Quidditch with your apparently injured arm?" I said to Draco as I walked him to the Quidditch field to join his team.

"We've got a plan."

"Not to be prejudice, Draconis, but your idea of a plan is my idea of a hate crime."

I stopped near the Quidditch changing rooms, not quite wanting to smell the scent of people who play sports in their free time and stepped back. "I need to finish my Muggle Studies essay, so I won't watch your practice."

"No need to." Those were the last words he said to me before disappearing behind the change room doors.

I stared for a while, wondering what that could possibly mean, and left.

Before I could get to the library, I was startled by a blur of bright orange rushing passed my feet. I turned behind me and found that the wearer of the bright colour had stopped, and it was really just a cat with a naturally angry looking face.

"Hello there," I cooed as I picked him up. I didn't know that someone at the school owned a cat, but the owner was clear when I found a single grey hair near his teeth. Not many in the school would stoop so low as to have a rat as a pet, but I know someone who's friends with such a person. "You're Hermione's!"

He meowed in response, as if to say yes, and I smiled. "What are you doing all the way over here? The Gryffindor Tower is well away. Whoa- Hey!"

The cat wriggled out of my arms and ran off. With the thought of Hermione - who already seemed tired out of her mind despite it not even being October yet - I ran after.

He made his way outside and started running towards the Whomping Willow. I hesitated, watching a bird with quite poor timing get hit by its thrashing branches and sent hundreds of metres away with the only remnants of it being near the deadly tree being feathers that drifted to the ground.

"Hey!" I whisper-yelled as if the tree could hear me. "No, don't go there!"

Without a name to call, it seemed like the cat was ignoring me, peacefully trotting up to the tree.

I hurriedly pulled out my wand, reading to try and use the Freezing Charm on the Whomping Willow, only for the cat to press a knot at the base of the tree, making it freeze on its own.