Everlasting (H.P x fem.reader) YEARS 1-4

Year Two: Chapter Six

3rd Person POV:

The next day, however, was not so great. Things started to go downhill during breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long House tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray).

Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Y/n and Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug.  There was a slight stiffness in the way she said "Morning," which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way that he, Ron, and Y/n had arrived. 

Neville Longbottom, however, greeted them cheerfully. Neville was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry had ever met. 

"Mail's due any minute — I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot." 

Y/n had only started on her eggs when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy packaged bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers. 

Y/n shook violently as she feverishly tried to wipe away the milk with napkins Harry gave her before he wiped himself down.

"Errol!" said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak. 

"Oh, no—" Ron gasped. 

"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger. 

"It's not that — it's that." 

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville were both looking at is as though it was going to explode. 

"Is that a — a howler?" Y/n said, lifting the letter up slightly. 

"Yeah," said Neville in a timid whisper. "You'd better open it Ron. It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it —and" — he gulped — "it was horrible." 

Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope. 

"What's a howler?" he said, but Ron and Y/n's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners. 

"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a couple minutes-" 

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry knew why. He thought for a second, that it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling. 

"—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SUPRISED IF THEY EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE—" 

Mrs. Weasley's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen. 

"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU, HARRY, AND Y/N COULD HAVE DIED, M/N IS FURIOUS WITH THE THREE OF YOU—" 

Y/n had been wondering when her name was going to pop up, but she was even more surprised to hear that her mum had been conversing with the Weasleys.

"—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED—YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME."