Healing

A Howler and Hogsmeade

Draco was looking forward to Saturday, not so much the party that was being organised with great excitement by Pansy and a select group of other year eights, but more because the first week of term had been immense and he wasn't sure how everything that had happened could have possibly occurred in just one week. It's what comes of hanging out with Gryffindors, he thought ruefully as he wondered what his other years would have been like if they'd been sorted by year rather than House.

Saturday morning promised a leisurely breakfast, then he thought he'd ask Harry to come to Hogsmeade with him. He wanted to buy a new shirt for the party that night. Thankfully his hair had, indeed, returned to normal. For once, Harry waited for him, chiding his slow-start, He scooped up Herbert into his pocket and the two men walked down to breakfast together and sat with Neville, Blaise, Hermione, and Pansy. It appeared that the rest of year eight were even slower on a Saturday morning. As Draco plucked up the courage to ask Harry to come to Hogsmeade with him, they talked quietly over breakfast, sniggering slightly at Justin when he appeared because his dark hair still retained a distinctly dark-green hue. Not long after, Ron appeared with Dean and Seamus, looking dishevelled and he collapsed onto the bench beside Hermione without thinking and dug into a bowl of porridge. Draco saw her watching, conflict written across her face—anger, hope, disgust, love, hurt—a combustible mixture that she was trying to reign in. She was saved by the Owl post: a Long-eared Owl with great black tufts like devil's horns on its head swooped over their table and dropped a red envelope in front of Ron. The owl left without waiting. The envelope hovered in front of him ominously.

Ron paled.

The rest of the table waited.

'Go on, then, open it, Ron,' Neville prompted, 'you know it's no use waiting.'

The occupants at nearby tables were watching too, waiting to hear why Ron had received a Howler. McGonagall was observing from the staff table with pursed lips, she knew trouble when she saw it.

Ron prodded it with his wand at arms-length as if it might bite. He winced as its screech filled the Great Hall.

'RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY' yelled George Weasley's voice and the noise in the Great Hall fell to deathly silence. 'HOW DARE YOU CONSPIRE WITH MY GIRLFRIEND TO SWAP MY HAIRBRUSH FOR THAT ... THAT THING, I don't care how cute it is. HOW DARE YOU TURN MY TRADE-MARK WEASLEY HAIR INTO BRIGHT PINK TROLL-HAIR, ON A SATURDAY TOO! ON THE BUSIEST DAY OF THE WEEK. ITS SO ... SO ...' the angry voice faltered. 'ITS SO BLOODY INGENIOUS BUT NOW I DON'T HAVE ANY TO SELL TO MY CUSTOMERS, I WANT TWENTY IN MY DIAGON ALLEY STORE BY NEXT SATURDAY... bloody ingenious.' The Howler muttered again before bursting into flames above the table and sending a shower of black ash into Ron's porridge.

There was an eruption of laughter through the hall. Seamus was patting Ron on the back, even Hermione's expression had changed to one of admiration.

'Mr Weasley...' McGonagall's voice cut across the noise.

'Uh-oh, now you're for it!' Neville muttered.

'I would like a word,' the Headmistress's lips were tight as she summoned Ron to the teacher's table.

As Ron wove his way through the watching students towards her, Draco saw Flitwick lean across and whisper to her. Then the Charms professor jumped down from his seat and went around the table towards Ron, a huge grin on his face.

McGonagall looked on with compressed lips at the animated discussion between the two men, well, animated on Flitwick's part, Ron was stock still, he looked almost shocked. Draco wasn't sure if there was a twinkle in McGonagall's eyes.

When Ron re-joined the table, he, too, had a barely contained smirk.

'What happened?' Dean asked.