THE WITCHING HOUR ➸ h. potter

21 - pixies and pricks

Things started to go downhill for us 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 eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray). Harry, Ron and I 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," to Harry and Ron, which told me that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted us cheerfully.

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

I had only just started my toast 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 package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying us 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 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 me, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

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

"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."

I looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" I asked, glad at least I wasn't the only one who didn't know what it was, judging by the look on Harry's face.

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, I knew why. I thought for a moment it had exploded - a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D 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 AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED—"

I looked over at Harry who seemed to be ignoring the fact that his name had come up.

"—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 BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over him. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you—"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

Harry pushed his porridge away. Obviously overtaken by guilt. Mr. Weasley was facing an inquiry at work. After all Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had done for us over the summer...

But I had no time to dwell on this - Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. I took mine and saw that we had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think Harry and Ron had been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.