human again / hp.

Chapter 26

The Great Hall was alive with its usual midday chaos, a symphony of clinking cutlery, overlapping conversations, and bursts of laughter bouncing off the enchanted ceiling. Overhead, the sky was a serene pale blue, a striking contrast to the commotion below. The savory aroma of roast chicken mingled with the sugary scent of treacle tart, creating a comforting atmosphere. I sat at the Slytherin table, half-listening to Pansy Parkinson as she complained about the Hufflepuffs—something about their habit of "always being so nice, it's sickening."

Across from me, Blaise Zabini looked as bored as I felt, poking at his mashed potatoes with deliberate disinterest. Beside me, Draco was lounging lazily, picking at his food with a fork while occasionally throwing smug glances at the Gryffindor table. It was an ordinary lunchtime—until it wasn't.

A loud, booming "Look, everyone, Weasley's got himself a Howler!" tore through the noise like a thunderclap, silencing the hall in an instant.

Every head turned toward the Gryffindor table. My gaze followed instinctively, landing on Ron Weasley, whose face had turned the exact shade of his fiery hair. Hovering ominously before him was a howler, its red envelope quivering with barely contained rage.

Draco sat up straighter, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Oh, this should be good," he said, his lips curling into a delighted smirk.

Pansy leaned forward, her expression alight with glee. "I knew they'd get in trouble for that stunt."

"Doesn't his family send enough embarrassment his way without needing magical letters?" I said, leaning back slightly to get a better view of the unfolding scene.

Ron hesitated, his hands trembling as he reached for the howler. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick enough to cut with a wand. Finally, he tore it open.

"RONALD WEASLY!" The howler exploded into sound. "HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR!" Mrs. Weasley's voice erupted, magnified to an ear-splitting volume. "I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S 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!"

After that, the Howler turned to Ron's sister also sitting at the gryffindor table "Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."

The furious tirade echoed off the stone walls, filling every corner of the Great Hall. Students erupted into laughter, their glee at Ron's public humiliation evident in the cacophony. Even the professors at the staff table were struggling to suppress their smiles—though Snape, of course, looked as sour as ever.

Ron seemed to shrink in his seat, his face burning red with mortification. Next to him, Harry shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to think of something comforting to say. Hermione, ever the loyal friend, leaned in to whisper something soothing, though her own cheeks were tinged with pink.

"She's louder than a banshee," Draco sneered, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned closer to me.

"True," I admitted, smirking faintly. "But at least she cares enough to send it."

Draco raised an eyebrow at my response but said nothing, too engrossed in the scene to press the matter.

The howler's remnants burst into flames with a final whoosh, leaving behind only a wisp of smoke and the lingering sound of laughter. Ron slumped in his seat, looking as though he wished the floor would swallow him whole.

"That was worth sitting through lunch," Draco said as the noise in the hall began to swell again. His smirk lingered as we gathered our things, the buzz of conversation around us now dominated by gleeful retellings of the howler.

The corridors were just as noisy as we left the Great Hall, the laughter and chatter following us like an echo. Draco walked beside me, his hands shoved into his robe pockets, while Crabbe and Goyle trailed a step behind, their heavy footfalls reverberating against the stone floor.

"I still can't believe Weasley actually thought he'd get away with stealing a car," Draco mused, his tone a mix of derision and delight. "A flying car, no less."

"Reckless, stupid, and completely predictable," I said, my voice clipped. "You'd think he'd have learned some restraint by now."

"Restraint? From a Weasley?" Draco laughed, shaking his head. "That family doesn't even know the meaning of the word."

As we turned a corner, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom came into view. The corridor ahead was already congested with students, most of them craning their necks for a glimpse of the new professor.

"I still can't believe Lockhart got the job," Draco said, his tone laced with disdain.

"Who else would Dumbledore hire?" I replied, a dry smile tugging at my lips. "A celebrity wizard with a flair for theatrics fits the bill perfectly."

Draco snorted. "It's insulting, really. Father would be appalled at the state of things here."

I didn't need to imagine Lucius Malfoy's scorn; his disdain for anything less than perfection was practically a family creed. Lockhart's reputation for vanity and questionable competence would undoubtedly have earned him a long, scathing diatribe.

We approached the crowd near the classroom door, where Lockhart's signature toothy grin was already on full display. His turquoise robes shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, and he was basking in the adoration of a group of starry-eyed students.

"Welcome, welcome!" Lockhart's smooth, overly enthusiastic voice rang out as he gestured flamboyantly toward the door. "Don't be shy! There's plenty of room for everyone to enjoy today's lesson!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "This is going to be unbearable."

"Unbearable doesn't even begin to cover it," I muttered, watching as Lockhart struck another overly dramatic pose.

The crowd surged forward, and we were swept along with it into the classroom. As Lockhart launched into an introduction laced with self-praise, I glanced sideways at Draco. His expression mirrored my own—resigned and unimpressed.

Yes, I thought grimly, this was going to be a very long year.