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⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙ chapter eighteen ✷ the deathday party
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OCTOBER ARRIVED, SPREADING A DAMP CHILL OVER THE GROUNDS AND INTO THE CASTLE. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire.
Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.
Apollo had been sat in the hallway, a book on his lap as he fidgeted with his fingers while reading. When he caught sight of Harry, he was met with the very glum looking boy, which made him smile. "Just a little bit of rain, I take it."
"Oh, har, har," Harry grumbled as he slumped next to Apollo, mud splattering around him and Apollo quickly shielded his book.
"What happened?" Apollo asked, placing his book in his bag and directing all his attention to Harry, who looked at his best friend slightly surprised. It seemed he had forgotten on how much his friends cared for him.
Harry sighed as Apollo tried picking at the dried mud in his hair. "I bet even if it was all sunny and there was a huge rainbow, we still wouldn't have had had a good practice. Fred and George went to spy on the Slytherins and their new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They said that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles."
Apollo sighed, before standing up with a, "well!" before he held out his hands for Harry to take to help him up. "I bet even if they had the fastest brooms ever made, you'd still beat them." He tugged Harry to his feet, keeping their hands locked as they began walking down the corridor.
"You know, Apollo," Harry said, making the brunette hum. "You seem to be good at everything: schoolwork, comforting friends, probably grow up to be handsome too," he said, the last part slightly quiet. "I bet you'd be good on a broom."
"Oh, definitely not," Apollo grimaced. "The last time I was on a broom, was when Uncle Silas had to take me up to the hospital."
