"Whether Sirius Black actually wants Harry dead or not, he's already made life miserable for the rest of us!"
Amanda and the other six sat around a table in the Library; during the break Ron slammed his book shut, face flushed with indignation.
Harry, beside him, nodded vigorously. "Miserable is an understatement."
Hermione looked at her two indignant best friends in bewilderment. "What's wrong with you two? Sirius Black never managed to get into the Gryffindor Common Room—he didn't actually do anything."
"He did nothing," Ron snapped, then caught himself, glanced toward Madam Pince, and lowered his voice.
"But thanks to him, the portrait guarding the Gryffindor Common Room isn't the fat lady anymore—it's Sir Cadogan and his fat little pony."
"Merlin's beard, the man changes the password half a dozen times a day, duels every other portrait, and won't listen when you try to give him the password."
"He even challenged us to a duel—how exactly are we supposed to duel a painting?"
Harry pulled a face. "Probably expects us to blow him out of the canvas with a spell—if that's even possible."
The four girls besides Amanda giggled softly; only she spoke, voice flat.
"Arrogant, self-centered, and irresponsible."
"What?" Hermione wiped the smile from her lips, a trace of laughter still in her voice.
Amanda turned to her, toneless. "Based on Sir Cadogan's behavior, his personality is arrogant and self-centered, and he shows little sense of responsibility."
"I estimate a high probability of operational error."
"Operational error? You mean like forgetting the password he set?"
Cho Chang asked uncertainly, curious.
"That is one possibility."
Amanda nodded impassively. "There are many other kinds of mistakes."
"Great… one day we'll be locked out of our own Dormitory."
Ron slumped back in his chair, exhausted.
"Look on the bright side, Ron," Harry said, rubbing his temples. "If we can't get in, Sirius Black can't either."
"Oh, brilliant comfort, Harry," Ron waved a hand. "Picture it: us and Sirius Black stuck outside the Gryffindor Common Room together—how delightful."
"Merlin, Ron," Hermione giggled, patting his shoulder. "That disaster hasn't happened yet; think positive."
"Maybe Sir Cadogan just needs time to adjust—he could improve."
"There's a chance, right, Amanda?"
She paused. "Yes. The probability of any event is never absolutely zero."
Yet by her calculation, Sir Cadogan reforming was less likely than Sirius Black strolling in to turn himself in—a measly 0.15 percent.
"Right, let's see the homework you two wrote all night."
Hermione whisked the parchments from under their noses and unfolded them without ceremony.
The boys shot upright too late.
"Wow…"
Hermione's brows knitted as she scanned the parchment. "I didn't know next week would be so tragic for you."
She eyed Ron. "You're going to be stung by hornets? Where in Hogwarts are there hornets?"
Then she turned to Harry. "And you're going to be dragged underwater and drowned by the giant squid in the Black Lake?"
"Giant squid don't do that; they're gentle and even help Young Wizards who fall in," Penelope said, then stepped over, glanced at the essays, and raised an eyebrow.
"But if this is Divination homework, it's fine."
"In that class you don't write what you've learned—you write how miserable you'll be," said Cho Chang grimly; she'd endured a term of Divination.
"Make yourself miserable? What does that mean?"
Hermione waved the parchments, unable to grasp a subject where content mattered less than predicted doom.
"Professor Trelawney doesn't read for accuracy," Marietta Eckmore explained. "She just wants to see you predict something awful."
"If you do, she marks it a successful divination and gives top marks."
"Merlin, by mid-term Cho and I had imagined every possible way we might die," Cho added. "We dropped the class before the year ended."
Amanda glanced at the two older girls; so the impossible demises she'd glimpsed had been Divination essays, not risk assessments.
She'd assumed they were cataloguing likely causes of death and avoiding them.
"Right," Hermione muttered, grateful the older girls had warned her and Amanda away from Divination.
"Keep inventing; here's one—asteroid impact. Miserable enough for you?"
"What's that?" Ron, raised in the Wizarding World, asked.
Cho, Marietta Eckmore, and Penelope looked equally blank; Harry's mouth twitched.
"That is catastrophic," Amanda said flatly. "A moving space rock, large enough to cause mass extinction if it strikes Earth."
"Oh…" Ron groaned. "I bet Professor Trelawney would love it."
Amanda blinked, automatically calculating the magical energy required to drag an asteroid down and whether she could supply it.
Two minutes of mental arithmetic told her she could summon one, but not shield anyone besides herself—utility rating: zero.
With that, she filed the spell away and bent over her homework.
Life at Hogwarts dragged on as the Gryffindor Young Wizards endured day after day of torment.
With Sir Cadogan making their lives miserable, the upcoming Quidditch match was the only thing that could lift their spirits.
Want to watch the match with me?
Amanda set down her knife and fork after breakfast just as Hermione's voice sounded beside her.
She turned to Hermione; faced with those expectant eyes, Amanda's face stayed blank, yet her answer came without hesitation.
Okay.
Hermione beamed at the reply; Amanda's life had been loosening up lately—she was finally returning to normal.
Amanda rose, leaving her cutlery behind, and followed Hermione out. Cho Chang, Marietta Eckmore, and Penelope exchanged glances and silently chose not to tag along.
Today wasn't Ravenclaw House's match, so they didn't have to attend; mainly… none of them wanted to intrude on Hermione and Amanda.
Better to let the two of them have some time alone.
Still, seeing the torrential rain outside, Penelope and Cho wordlessly drew their wands and each cast an Impervius Charm over Amanda and Hermione.
The two girls looked back in unison and thanked their senior housemates.
They stepped out of Hogwarts Castle; shielded by the charm, the rain never touched them.
Noticing Hermione's thin summer wizard robe, Amanda pulled out her own wand and cast a Warming Charm on both of them.
Thanks, Amanda.
Feeling the warmth, Hermione smiled and linked arms with her.
Horrible weather today, she muttered, scowling at the rain that blocked the view ahead. No wonder the Slytherin House Team pulled every string to swap today's match to Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor.
Amanda nodded without expression, her mind racing.
Ends justify the means—classic Slytherin House style; at least it's smarter than their blind devotion to blood purity theory.
They found seats in the stands; through the downpour Amanda could barely make out the two team captains shaking hands on the Quidditch Pitch.
The loud commentary rang out—match officially begun.
Players from both sides shot skyward; Amanda locked her gaze on Harry, tracking every move.
After the past two years' Quidditch disasters, she couldn't be sure this season would pass without incident.
Better to stay alert.
The rain's too heavy, Hermione said, shaking droplets from her hair; thanks to the charm it stayed dry. Harry can barely see.
His glasses, Amanda stated flatly.
Exactly, Hermione answered, lips pressed tight as she anxiously followed the Gryffindor House Team.
The moment Wood called a time-out she yanked Amanda down from the stands.
Impervius, she cast before Harry could react, tapping his spectacles with her wand.
Oh! Harry blinked. I was just saying the rain on my glasses was blinding me—thanks, Hermione.
You're welcome. Good luck, Harry.
Hermione shook her head and, still soaked, led Amanda back under the Quidditch stands to return to their seats.
The players remounted; cheers and roars erupted around them.
Amanda's eyes swept the stands, a nagging sense she'd missed something.
Quidditch match, crowds happy, everyone cheerful… what did she overlook? Sirius Black had escaped; Dementors patrolled Hogwarts.
The two unrelated facts snapped together in her mind.
Heart lurching, she gripped Hermione's hand and bolted toward the box where Headmaster Dumbledore and the Professors sat.
Amanda, what's wrong? Where are we going? Hermione shouted over the rain, yet ran alongside without resistance.
Too many happy people packed the Quidditch Pitch; patrolling Dementors won't resist their instinct—they'll come, and it'll be dangerous, Amanda explained, voice eerily calm despite their sprint.
What?! Hermione gasped, grasped the implication, and quickened her pace.
They pounded up to the staff box; the stamp of feet made every Professor turn.
No room elsewhere, girls? Professor Sprout asked kindly.
Professor McGonagall smiled and waved. The match won't finish for a while; no need to rush.
It's… it's not that, Professor, Hermione panted, words failing; she nudged Amanda.
Though breathless, Amanda forced her voice level and laid out her deduction: Too many happy people on the Quidditch Pitch—it will draw the patrolling Dementors.
At once Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout paled and looked to Headmaster Dumbledore.
He rose sharply. Thank you, Miss Amanda; we overlooked this.
Raising his wand, he began, Expecto— But a scream cut him off as Harry, surrounded by three Dementors, went limp and plummeted.
Hidden by rain, no one—not even Harry—had sensed their approach until too late.
Descendo! Dumbledore switched spells mid-word, slowing Harry's fall.
Expecto Patronum! Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout shouted together; two Patronuses burst forth and charged through the rain.
Amanda studied the Professors' faces—every one blazed with fury. The last time she'd seen that look was when Professor McGonagall learned her past.
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