𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 2, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 6: 𝓖𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓸𝔂 𝓛𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓽

~ chapter six: gilderoy lockhart ~

The next day, however, Y/N and Harry barely grinned once. Things started to go downhill from 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 egg and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray). Harry, Ron, and Y/N had sat down at the Gryffindor table next to 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 and Y/N that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully. Y/N found Neville to be quite an interesting boy. Yes, he didn't have the greatest memory, but she still felt that perhaps he would turn out to be a great wizard by the end of their seventh year.

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

Y/N had only just started her porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package 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.

"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 Y/N nor Harry recognized 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 and Y/N, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though it were going to explode.

Y/N and Harry traded curious looks, mentally debating with their eyes who was going to pop the question first. Harry decided to be the one to do it. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"She's—she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.

"A Howler?" Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "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 and Y/N looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" Y/N asked.

But Ron'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 few 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 and Y/N knew why. They both thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR? I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME." Then the Howler turned to Ginny before continuing, "Oh, and Ginny, dear. Congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud." The Howler then turned back to Ron, blew a raspberry, and shredded itself up.