My heart skipped a beat as the photo came to life. There we were, Jacob and I, jumping up and down and grinning at Mom. She must have thought it was because we were excited. Mischievous, giggling, and making silly faces at each other. Little did she...
I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Great Gatsby"
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Rowan slammed a book onto the table, the sound so loud that even a few heads turned from the Slytherin table. I reached out and gently put my hand on hers.
"You're too harsh on him, Ro. Remember when he hurried to the Hospital Wing last year after you got injured? Ben was genuinely worried."
She clung to her glasses as if afraid they would fly off in the heat of our verbal battle. Rowan's patience was waning rapidly, making me cautious about bringing up the idea of taking Ben to the Cursed Vault. And now, even...
"Worried? He's more than he sets on. Do we really need to drag him along?"
"We have no proof that he's hiding something. And besides, he's our friend."
"More of your friend, not mine."
Rowan took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips as weariness settled in. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and mumbled, "Fine. But if I die because of Ben, I'll be haunting him till graduation."
I smiled, wrapping her in the tightest of hugs, and after a moment, Rowan squeezed me back. Her anger never lasted too long.
"Worry not, Ro," I assured confidently, reaching for a jug of juice. I splashed some into a glass and concluded, "I won't let you die."
The leftovers from our meal went into a small bag tucked into my robe pocket. Quietly, Rowan and I collected the leftovers – butter, smoked items, even a bit of shepherd's pie. I imagined someone in our dormitory would be delighted — a small, mischievous someone with two playful tails.
I spotted Charlie across the room, also stashing food from the Gryffindor table. Feeling my gaze, Weasley looked up and winked. I winked back.
"Chester will like this," Rowan whispered, leaning closer. Her long, dark hair dipped into her soup bowl. "I even found some bones. Cruppies are fond of bones!"
I pressed a finger to my lips. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out that we had an illegal tenant in our room, our newest and most cherished addition — a Crup puppy named Chester.
Apart from the name, they didn't have much in common. At least Chester the Cruppy was much more pleasant to communicate with than Chester the Prefect: he didn't growl in our ear, didn't scold us for lost points, and only occasionally peed in our shoes. Despite this, the girls in our room were absolutely taken with him.
"Blimey, he can follow commands?"
"What incredible tails! Can I pet him?"
"Oh, I wish I could have a Crup too. My mum's a Muggle, and it turns out Crups are quite unfriendly to non-magical folk."
