CHAPTER 66

Having stood up from my seat, I decided to clearly answer how I see this problem, because I have read about them, and in principle, these are creatures quite familiar to me.

"The unknown, sir."

"Please explain."

"If you don't specifically look for the already insignificant signs of a werewolf in a person, you may not know about his essence until the very end. A werewolf may be a neighbor in the house; the signs can be completely easy to ignore in everyday life, and then you go to him for salt on the days of the full moon. That's where you are torn to pieces."

"Exactly," Snape nodded. "That's where the cunning of werewolves lies. Differences from Animagi? Crabbe."

The heavyset boy stood up from his seat.

"Well… An Animagus transforms of his own free will. A werewolf transforms during the full moon."

"Peculiarities of behavior? Goldstein."

"Aggression towards people, thirst for blood, fearlessness until he gets a lot of damage. Much smarter than an animal."

"Exactly," Snape nodded, and the slide changed again. "A werewolf in wolf form is a bloodthirsty animal with the ability to learn, like a human…"

For another ten minutes, the survey was conducted in a similar form, during which Snape fished out bits of knowledge from us, turning them into theses.

"Now let's look at the books on page three hundred and ninety-four. Read, take notes on the nuances voiced."

We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes, listening to Snape's criticism of the notes from both today and previous lessons, and then he gave a record-breaking assignment for DADA by today's standards. It didn't touch me at all, but the others were outraged—kids, what can you do? They never want to work. Most of them.

By evening, the weather had deteriorated. The wind had been howling outside all night, and raindrops were pounding the glass, occasionally giving my ears a break. Did it bother me? Not at all. But the others were tossing and turning, waking up every now and then.

Saturday morning started with nerves, but not for me. Any morning for me is morning exercises, shower, breakfast. But the others were nervous. The weather outside was terrible: a cold wind was blowing, the sky was covered with thick clouds, it was raining. Because of such bad weather, the Headmaster even turned off the illusion of the sky on the ceiling of the Great Hall—it was too oppressive because of its realism.

"How are you?" asked Cedric, who had come up to me. "Can you cope in this weather?"

"No problem, I guess," I shrugged.

"That's great. Don't eat too much."

"Agreed."

After breakfast, our team headed to the changing rooms, just like the Gryffindors. True, they walked much further than us. Having changed into the yellow uniform of the faculty, grabbed our brooms, we went out into the rain.

"Glasses for those who need them," Herbert held out seven pairs of glasses, like those worn by pilots. "Impervius has already been applied."

"Of course," wincing from the rain, everyone reached out to them, except me. "Hector?"

"It's better for me this way."

"As you wish."

We quickly reached the stadium and went into a kind of dressing room under the stands. Here you could sit, lie down, jump, hang yourself on the crossbar—an activity for any mood. And there was no wind or rain, which is important.

"So, ladies and gentlemen," Cedric smiled as he turned to us, standing in a circle. "We may play Quidditch for the sake of the game itself, for the perverted pleasure, as some believe, of risking our lives, but… But we won't give the Gryffindors a break."

"Of course!"

The gates of the anteroom began to open, as if this were not a Quidditch stadium, but a Colosseum, and we were gladiators who would fight lions. In a way, that's true. Well, let's fly!

---

Despite the terrible weather, the stands of the Quidditch pitch were filled with students. Gusts of wind could tear umbrellas out of hands, but the children did not despair, already making noise, although the teams of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were only just walking to the center of the pitch. There they were met by Madam Hooch, the flying teacher, and today—the referee of the match. Some students, like the teachers, were wrapped in raincoats. Here and there you could see various posters, enchanted against water—this was the only thing that saved them from getting wet, and the paint—from drips.

"I see," a familiar voice sounded next to Hermione, "no bad weather is keeping you in the castle."

"Malfoy?" The girl was surprised, as were her faculty comrades standing nearby.

Although, there was no reason to be surprised—this time the Slytherins got close to the Gryffindors—from this side of the stands, the wind was blowing not in the face, but at the back, allowing one to watch the game.

"And what are you doing here with your friends?"

Malfoy, in his green and silver raincoat, looked disgustingly dry and contented, just like his classmates.

"I was curious, who will the faithful friend of the Boy Who Lived be rooting for? And I couldn't miss the opportunity to witness the grief of defeat on your faces."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Hermione said indignantly.

"Just take a closer look."

Hermione looked at the players, tormented by a strange feeling of slight fear and worry, but the bad weather did not allow her to see clearly—what should she see? Could something be wrong with Harry, or the twins, or the Chaser girls?

"…And in the meantime, our players came out onto the field!!!" The voice of Lee Jordan, the permanent commentator, was somewhat muffled by the raging elements, but remained very clearly audible to everyone in the stands.

"…More than half of the Hufflepuff team has changed this year! Let's see what the newcomers will show us! So, here Oliver Wood and Cedric Diggory shook hands! The players got on their brooms…"

The sound of Madam Hooch's whistle could be heard even here, and all the players soared into the sky on their brooms, followed a moment later by two Bludgers and a Snitch, which instantly disappeared from sight.

"The referee throws in the Quaffle, and…" Lee Jordan ranted, his enthusiasm infectious as always. "Granger has the Quaffle!"

Hearing the name, Hermione choked on the air she had been taking in for a cheer for her house team.

"…He's getting past Angelina, Katie. Come on, girls, that was a bit too much! George sends a Bludger towards the Hufflepuff Seeker! Oh! A fine feint, I must admit!"