Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape.
    ‘Snape’s never been like this with any of our other Defence 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 next morning; so early that it was still 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 bolt upright – Peeves the poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear.
    ‘What did you do that for?’ said Harry furiously.
    Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard and zoomed backwards out of the room, cackling.
    Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It was half past four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now he was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch pitch, battling through that gale. Finally he gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand and walked quietly out of the dormitory.
    As Harry opened the door, something brushed against his leg. He bent down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his bushy tail, and drag him outside.
    ‘You know, I reckon Ron was right about you,’ Harry told Crookshanks suspiciously. ‘There are plenty of mice around this place, go and chase them. Go on,’ he added, nudging Crookshanks down the spiral staircase with his foot, ‘leave Scabbers alone.’
    The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. Harry knew better than to think the match would be cancelled; Quidditch matches weren’t called off for trifles such as thunderstorms. Nevertheless, he was starting to feel very apprehensive. Wood had pointed out Cedric Diggory to him in the corridor; Diggory was a fifth-year and a lot bigger than Harry. Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Diggory’s weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course.
    Harry whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks sneaking up the boys’ staircase again. At long last Harry thought it must be time for breakfast, so he headed through the portrait hole alone.
    ‘Stand and fight, you mangy cur!’ yelled Sir Cadogan.
    ‘Oh, shut up,’ Harry yawned.
    He revived a bit over a large bowl of porridge, and by the time he’d started on toast, the rest of the team had turned up.
    ‘It’s going to be a tough one,’ said Wood, who wasn’t eating anything.
    ‘Stop worrying, Oliver,’ said Alicia soothingly, ‘we don’t mind a bit of rain.’
    But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Just before he entered the changing room, Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle laughing and pointing at him from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium.
    The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood’s usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn’t come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned them to follow him.
    The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the pitch. If the crowd was cheering they couldn’t hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over Harry’s glasses. How on earth was he going to see the Snitch in this?
    The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the pitch, wearing canary-yellow robes. The