Flames Of Destiny : Conflicting Emotions // HJP [2]

Chapter Seven : Dolores Umbridge

(Y/n) sighed, reluctantly trailing after Harry as he stormed out of the Great Hall. She didn't exactly fancy standing through yet another of Harry's heated rants at Ron and Hermione. He seemed to be the only one ever raising his voice, and she honestly didn't have the energy to watch him simmer again over lunch. She just wanted to enjoy her shepherd's pie in peace—was that too much to ask?

Still, she knew how this would go. She'd follow him, he'd grumble, and somehow she'd end up spending her lunch hour trying to coax a smile from the broodiest boy in Hogwarts. Not that it was her duty, but she couldn't just let him storm off alone, stewing.

Navigating through students flooding towards the Great Hall for lunch, (Y/n) grimaced as her stomach growled. She still couldn't believe she was here in this world, with friends she genuinely cared for, yet, somehow, running after a fuming Harry Potter. And for what? To talk him down from another one of his dramatic exits. He'd seemed to handle it well at first, the endless squabbling between Hermione and Ron, but this time he'd finally cracked.

As she hurried along, she caught sight of the castle's most eccentric portrait: Sir Cadogan. He unsheathed his sword with gusto, pointing it directly at her.

"Stand, ye rogue! Turn back and face me!" he roared, the visor of his helmet clinking as he shifted to peer down at her.

"Oh, bugger off, I haven't got time," muttered (Y/n), ignoring the knight entirely as she trudged past him.

Undeterred, Sir Cadogan attempted to leap into the next portrait to pursue her, only to be blocked by a massive wolfhound occupying the space. The hound snapped at him with a snarl, and (Y/n) stifled a laugh, thinking she could do with her own wolfhound to fend off the nuisances in her life.

She knew exactly where Harry had gone. The North Tower wasn't far, and since their next class was Divination, he'd likely gone there to sulk out of everyone's sight. Sure enough, there he was, seated beneath the trapdoor with his knees spread, elbows resting on them as he stared broodingly at the ground. His hands hung between his legs, forming a loose circle. She could tell he was stewing over Ron and Hermione's bickering, replaying it in his mind.

(Y/n) stopped just short of him, observing for a moment, a flicker of sympathy replacing her earlier irritation. His face was a picture of frustration—eyebrows drawn together, a deep line creasing his forehead as he slouched there, worlds away in thought. All the same, (Y/n) couldn't let him brood his way through lunch.

Without warning, she dropped her bag next to him with a thud, jolting him out of his reverie. He looked up, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before softening when he saw her.

"What?" he asked bluntly, though his tone was more defeated than harsh.

"Don't 'what' me," (Y/n) replied, hands on her hips. "You left your food back there. And for what? Because Hermione and Ron can't manage to hold a conversation without bickering?"

Harry scowled, leaning back against the stone wall. "You wouldn't get it. It's just... everything with them feels like too much lately. They're always at each other's throats, and I can't stand being in the middle of it—we're always in the middle of it. Sometimes I think I'd be better off just ignoring them both."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Well, we can't have that, can we? Ignoring your best friends? That'll go over brilliantly. Why don't you just tell them it bothers you, nicely?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, clearly drained. "What difference would it make? They'd stop for a few hours and then argue again the next day."

(Y/n) gave him a long look, then knelt down beside him, a mischievous glint forming in her eye. "Right, if you're going to mope, at least let me help." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes dramatically, then opened them with an absurdly serious expression. She morphed her features, scrunching her nose, raising her eyebrows to cartoonish heights, her mouth twisting in a ridiculous grimace.