Values and Choices.
First night, Main Hall, 1991
Anthony assures his fellow students that he'll keep their wager simple. He's only betting on the breed of potential beasts and confidently declares it to be a fantastic creature linked to cats, which he's convinced no one will appreciate the scent of. His unwavering confidence in winning the bet has Ezra shaking his head in disapproval, especially after seeing Anthony's flair for gambling with other houses. Having noticed Anthony's impressive knack for locating Neville's toad earlier on the train, Harry, Ron, and Neville all realize the folly of betting against him.
Ezra leans in, exasperated, and whispers to Anthony, "You're roping them in broad daylight."
With a cheeky grin, Anthony replies, "Actually, it's still nighttime. They make their bets of their own accord, angel. Besides, with a bit of luck, I could use the winnings to bribe the house-elves for some extra food for you."
Hermione, albeit reluctantly, chimes in, "I think you could ask them for food without resorting to bribery. And honestly, I don't reckon Ezra would be comfortable with you treating someone that way on his behalf."
"Come on, Hermione. They're just having fun!" Ron interjects, irritation creeping into his voice.
"Hermione's right. I wouldn't want you going out of your way for me," Ezra says, trying to smooth things over.
"...Fine!" Anthony replies, his irritation obvious as he stands up in frustration.
"I do appreciate that you were keen to help, though," Ezra adds, trying to soften the moment.
"I said it's fine, Angel!" Anthony yells, striding back to the Slytherin table.
At that moment, Filch finally wrangles his cat, Mrs. Norris, into his arms, urging a few students to settle down.
"You, with the red hair! You're meant to be over at Slytherin's table, not here!" Filch shouts, annoyance plastered across his face.
"Right, and I'm heading there now!" Anthony shoots back with his usual bravado.
As Mrs. Norris spots Anthony, she yowls and darts from Filch's grasp, seeking refuge beneath Professor Dumbledore's old seat.
Taken aback by her behavior, Filch, in a fit of anger, turns and points an accusatory finger at Anthony. "What did you do to her?!"
"I didn't do a thing! It's not my fault she's such a pussy!" Anthony retorts, making the surrounding students erupt in laughter while Filch's face flushes crimson with rage.
"Detention! You'll have detention for your cheek and for moving to another house's table when the headmaster clearly instructed you to stay where you were," Filch declares, fuming.
"Oh, bite me!" Anthony shoots back defiantly, prompting another round of laughter from the crowd, some even applauding in delight, while Ezra and Hermione exchange worried glances, fully aware of the chaos unfolding.
"That's one way to break the record for getting detention on the very first night," Fred quips, turning to George.
"We'll need to step up our game then," George replies, a grin forming on his face.
"Good job, Hermione," Ron remarks sarcastically, glancing at a guilt-ridden Hermione and a downcast Ezra.
Harry merely sighs in resignation, bracing himself for the chaos that's sure to follow.
As the professors of Hogwarts return and the students settle in, Professor Dumbledore steps up to the stage once again. He scans the crowd with his kind, twinkling eyes and says, "Just a few more words from your headmaster to kick off the year. Firstly, the Quidditch trials are scheduled for the second week of term…"
Dumbledore's eyes sparkle behind his half-moon spectacles, clearly enjoying the lively clapping from the older students.
"Secondly, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind all of you that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes. And thirdly, the third floor on the right-hand side is strictly off-limits to anyone who doesn't fancy a very painful death…"
Harry chuckles, thinking Dumbledore is joking, but the heavy silence in the hall quickly dashes that thought.
"He usually goes into more detail about why we shouldn't go to certain places," Percy explains to the bewildered first-years, looking a bit concerned.
"Lastly, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds for everyone. You'll probably read about this in tomorrow's Daily Prophet: a carriage of fantastic beasts under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures got robbed while passing through Hogsmeade. Two baby nundus have been reported stolen, and their mother has been spotted dead. Our Minister Cornelius Fudge has dispatched beast division agents and Aurors to hunt down the missing Nundus and their thieves. There's no sign that the stolen Nundus are still around Hogsmeade. However, to ensure everyone's safety, Madam Pomfrey, professor Snape and I will start brewing Captopril potions to prevent heart failure from nundu's breath. We'll hand them out at breakfast every two weeks until the two baby nundus are found and the robbers are caught."
Harry turns to Ron and Percy, looking for an explanation, but they were too stunned to respond. The eerie silence hanging after Dumbledore's announcement fills the air with fear and shock.
He looks at Hermione, who's equally taken aback, but she quickly explains, "A nundu is a magical creature that looks like a leopard. Its toxic breath can wipe out an entire village when it grows up. It's considered one of the most dangerous magical beasts in many wizarding communities."
Across the hall, Anthony mutters, "Great way to start our first year." Padma, now recovering from the initial shock, sighs and nods in agreement.
In the cozy confines of their dormitory, Harry and Ron share a room with Ezra, Neville, Dean, and Seamus. Initially, each boy has a separate bed, but Ezra, ever the practical thinker, approaches Professor McGonagall with a proposal. With a bit of charm and persuasive reasoning, he convinces her to allow them to switch to bunk beds, thus freeing up much-needed space in their shared quarters.
This year, the number of Muggle-born witches and wizards rises slightly, prompting a surge of new students in the other three houses, while Slytherin remains relatively smaller. Ezra speculates that this increase stems from Voldemort's reign when many witches avoid pregnancy due to the constant threats looming around them. He points out that life in the Muggle world during the 1980s is markedly different, filled with cultural icons like Queen, Michael Jackson, the Jackson Five, Wham!,Cyndi Lauper and Madonna.
The boys discover that aside from certain events that encourage cooperation—like those involving the Royal Family or the impacts of World War II—the wizarding world heavily discourages interaction with Muggles. "Even my dad, who works in the Muggle section of the Ministry of Magic, is still limited in how he can engage with them," Ron remarks, a hint of frustration in his voice.
Ezra nods, sharing a more optimistic viewpoint. "It's such a shame! I genuinely believe Muggles and wizards can collaborate to enhance each other's lives." He pauses, rummaging through his trunk before reemerging with a vintage dial desk phone.
With excitement bubbling over, he shows it to Neville and Ron, explaining how Muggles have ingeniously crafted this device to use radio waves for communication. "As much as I adore our lovely owl system," Ezra enthuses, "the telephone offers a direct line between us. Sure, the Floo Network and communication spells like the Protean Charm and Patronus have their merits, but they all come with their own sets of limitations compared to this delightful little gadget, wouldn't you agree?!"
Dean interjects with practicality, "But we need cables and an electricity system to use this. Plus, Hogwarts is filled with wards that block radio waves to keep Muggles from discovering this place."
Ezra's eyes twinkle with mischief as a smirk creeps onto his face. "That's exactly why Muggles and wizards should cooperate! The blending of technology and magic can lead to some marvelous innovations. Just watch."
He decisively picks up the phone and dials a number, curiosity lighting up Harry's face. "Who are you calling at this hour?"
"Oh, Anthony! He has one of these as well."
"Is he even going to pick up? He seemed a bit upset back at dinner," Dean questions, skepticism in his tone.
"Anthony always answers," Ezra assures them. After a series of beeps and tones, the line connects, and Anthony's voice comes through, smooth but a touch weary.
"Hello, Angel..." Anthony greets, his tone immediately drawing enthusiastic cheers from the Gryffindor boys. Dean and Sean exchange bemused glances at the 'Angel' moniker.
"It's just a childhood nickname," Ezra explains innocently, still unaware of the deeper implications attached to it. Harry and Ron begin to piece together why Anthony might choose such a fitting title for Ezra, given his wise demeanor and yet undeniable innocent charm.
"I take it you're showing off that phone to your roommates?" Anthony's voice takes on a teasing note.
"Yes! I'm demonstrating how splendid it is to merge Muggle technology with magic. It's quite the conversation piece, don't you think? By the way, about earlier… I apologize if I upset you. I deeply value how you always look out for me, but I don't want you to feel that it's an obligation. And I thought your bets with the other students were rather amusing, actually. I just—"
"I understand. You've always got a knack for caring about everyone around you, even those older than us. That's why I named you 'Angel' in the first place. And trust me, I'm not mad…just a little bit irritation."
"What a relief! How's everything down in Slytherin's dungeon, by the way? Are you doing alright?"
"The room is fine and the ambiance suits me. Though, I must admit, sharing space with two feral pigs and a ferret is less than ideal."
Harry, Ron, and Dean snicker at Anthony's talent for creating humorous nicknames, while Neville and Sean look bewildered. Ron takes it upon himself to fill them in about each nickname, and soon laughter echoes in the room.
Ezra's brows furrow slightly, concern creeping in. "Are they giving you trouble? Oh no, being on a Muggle phone could lead them to—"
Anthony cuts him off, casually waving away the concern. "They've tried," he says with a dismissive shrug, "but I think they've learned their lesson by now. No need to worry about the phone, I've put up a silencing charm and a protective ward around my space. And plus, I've drawn the curtains. It's not like they can do anything I can't retaliate against a hundredfold, but I'd rather not deal with the rumors about Muggle tech causing a stir. Just keep your roommates quiet about the phone, alright? If any Slytherin catches wind of it, they're bound to report it, and we know what kind of trouble that can bring." He raises an eyebrow knowingly. "By the way, remember that big-eyed Indian girl from the train?"
Ezra feels a wave of relief washing over him, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh yes, Padma Patil. She's so smart and beautiful. Is she alright over there?"
Anthony nods, "Well, if she remembers to keep that protective ward up all the time, maybe. Padma shares your infatuation for mixing magic with Muggle tech. She brought a few gadgets along—like this tiny Walkman cassette player and a computer. Though, she only knows how to resize them to fit into her pocket. She hasn't figured out how to open the computer without electricity yet. I told her I'd teach her the necessary spells tomorrow if she brings those gadgets to me. Apparently, at Hogwarts, the girls can wander into the boys' dorms, but the boys can't go into the girls' dorms, even with permission. I mean, I get it—the school is packed with hormonal teenagers—but it's not like I'd ever do anything to any girl…"
"Yeah, because you've already got your Angel," Harry teases, a cheeky smirk spreading across his face.
"Shut it, Scarhead!" Anthony shoots back, indignation dripping from his voice, though it's all in good fun.
The boys burst into laughter, the sound echoing around them. Harry thinks that the other kids in their class will definitely pick up on Anthony's unique nicknames but he doesn't mind. "Scarhead" has a much cooler ring to it than "Ferret," after all.
Potion and Flying classes
The first few days for the first-year students are a whirlwind of navigating the sprawling Hogwarts castle. It's not just grand, it's positively enchanting and annoyingly unpredictable, with moving staircases that seem to have a mind of their own and hidden rooms lurking around every corner. Poor Nevile keeps forgetting which way to go, even with the help of Rememberall that his grandma sent to him on his second day at Hogwarts.
Harry frequently grapples with weariness and a sense of disorientation, yet amid the chaos, he begins to discover a feeling of belonging that he has long sought. The curious stares and hushed whispers surrounding his iconic scar sometimes send a ripple of anxiety through him, but they pale in comparison to the enchanting world of magic that unfolds before him. Each lesson is a marvel, filled with vibrant spells and mystical creatures, while his delightful new friends bring a warmth and camaraderie that soothes his nerves.
Harry feels a wave of relief wash over him when he sees that most of the other students aren't exactly wizards when it comes to magic, either. Even those from magical families seem to struggle, bound by those rigid rules that keep them from using magic outside school until they officially come of age. It's comforting to know he's not alone in his unfamiliarity.
Yet, there's no mistaking who the standout students are. Hermione and Ezra practically sparkle, single-handedly shooting Gryffindor to the top of the house points leaderboard. They fill the classrooms with an infectious enthusiasm that impresses each professor they meet.
Hermione quickly earns her reputation as the insufferable know-it-all. Her hand shoots up at every chance, always ready to offer an answer, often interrupting conversations even after a teacher has moved on. Most days, Harry enjoys having her around, but there are moments when she feels a bit overwhelming. Ron, in particular, gets frustrated. He thinks she constantly nitpicks at him. It doesn't help either that she seems to always be with Ezra, who has easily settled into their trio of friendship.
Harry realizes he's incredibly lucky to have found Ron and Ezra on the Hogwarts Express. Ron's refreshing honesty and humor make him easy to be around, while Ezra brings a depth that feels wise beyond his years. He's always available to lend a hand and never makes anyone feel foolish for asking questions. It's no wonder so many students are drawn to him over Hermione's relentless quest for knowledge.
By the time Thursday arrives, excitement buzzes in the air as the first-years from Gryffindor and Slytherin gear up for their first joint class: Potions with the intimidating Professor Snape down in the dungeons. The thrill of reuniting with Anthony and Padma crackles, but that thrill quickly dims at the thought of Draco Malfoy and his crew of Slytherin bullies lurking nearby.
Professor Severus Snape is every bit the stereotype of a scary teacher. He's tall and thin, with cold, piercing black eyes, greasy hair that drapes over his shoulders, and a nose that resembles a hawk's beak. The grim atmosphere of his classroom doesn't help—it's filled with jars containing all manner of dead creatures and strange-looking herbs.
The moment class started, it's like Snape had targeted Harry. He sneered during roll call, making a mockery of Harry's name, then launched into a series of rapid-fire questions about various potions. When Snape asked him about the powdered root of something or other, Harry stammered, "I don't know," and the man simply ramped up the pressure, demanding more answers like he expected Harry to have memorized all the contents of an entire library on magical plants.
Meanwhile, laughter erupted from Draco and his cronies every time Harry fumbled for an answer. It made the whole situation even more humiliating.
Hermione instantly shot her hand up to save him from Snape's relentless grilling. Normally, it would annoy Harry to have her constantly stepping in, but right now, he's grateful. Anything is better than being put on the spot like this. Ezra raises his hand as well, both of them ready to rescue him from the barrage of questions. But Snape purposefully ignores them, his eyes locked on Harry as if he's the only student in the room.
"Honestly, I don't know," Harry says, struggling to keep his voice calm and politeness intact. "I think Hermione and Ezra could help with that. Why don't you ask them instead?"
Snape's expression darkens, and he glares at Harry. "A point taken from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter," he snaps, then sharply turns to the rest of the class. "For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death. The Captopril potion that Professor Dumbledore was discussing the other night lowers high blood pressure caused by a nundu's toxic breath, thus preventing heart failure. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
The room falls into a tense silence as everyone hunches over their parchment, trying to keep up with the onslaught of information, while Harry feels a mix of relief and frustration simmering inside him.
After a long lecture packed with potion teachings, the students sat scribbling down notes, following what Snape was saying at an alarming pace as their magical quills were too busy writing down the notes on the board. Professor Snape finally paired up the students for the practical part of the class. Since there were fewer Slytherins, a few of them have to team up with Gryffindors. Ezra and Harry eagerly wanted to work together. Ezra was keen to lend a hand to his friend. Ron, on the other hand, wanted to partner with Anthony because of his useful nose. But of course, Snape wasn't having any of that—he paired Ron with Harry and Ezra with Anthony instead. As if those two need any more help!
Ezra and Anthony quickly whip up their potion, finishing at lightning speed. Snape rewards Slytherin with an extra 10 points, ignoring Ezra's contribution entirely. Ezra shrugs it off, focusing instead on slipping Harry and Ron's helpful notes while Anthony tries to explain to Snape that they should both get points since they worked together—but Snape brushes him off.
Just as Anthony opens his mouth to argue further, he suddenly spins around and snaps his fingers in Nevil and Seamus's direction, magically moving their cauldron to an empty corner of the room. The class gasps as the cauldron bobbles ominously before erupting in an explosion of sizzling mess against the wall.
Snape shoots a furious glance at Neville and Seamus. "That's what happens when you put porcupine quills into a cauldron without turning off the fire first. Ten points from Gryffindor!"
Then he turns to Anthony with a raised eyebrow. "And how do you know it's going to explode?"
"…I have a very sensitive nose," Anthony replies, his pride swelling just a bit.
"..good," Snape acknowledges, bestowing twenty points to Slytherin. "Stay back after class. I have a job for you."
Anthony's face twists at the mention of a "job," but Ezra beams with pride for his friend, clapping enthusiastically. "Well done, Anthony! You saved everyone from the explosion and scored points for Slytherin!"
As Anthony flushes crimson from the praise, he awkwardly scratches the back of his head, his gaze darting away, flustered yet beaming. Harry, watching closely, feels a twinge of concern that Snape might turn his scorn on Ezra for being so unabashedly cheerful in class. To his surprise, though, Snape merely observes the scene, his sharp eyes betraying a flicker of something—an emotion perhaps?! Harry caught the faintest movement in Snape's pupil, a realization tethered to a biology documentary he once sat through while Dursley left him alone for their short vacation. But just as quickly, Snape snaps back to rigid professionalism, scribbling marks on parchment as he grades other resulting cauldrons.
At least Harry and Ron manage to produce a decent potion, but Snape can't resist the opportunity to criticize. "And Potter, why didn't you remind your friend to turn off the fire before adding the quills? Did you think their mistakes would make you look good? Another point from Gryffindor!"
Harry opens his mouth to argue, but Ron stops him, whispering to just let it go. After all, Snape is notorious for dishing out the worst detentions.
Well, at least he makes it through his first potion class intact.
Lunchtime arrives, and the atmosphere is filled with a much-needed rest. Everyone quickly digs into their food after the stressful potion class that had just wrapped up.
"What do we have this afternoon, anyway?" Harry asks, glancing at his friends. Ron and Ezra, however, are far too engrossed in their meals. Ezra's gaze flickers to the entrance, clearly hoping to catch a glimpse of Anthony, who's still stuck in Snape's class.
"We have flying class," Hermione replies, a hint of worry in her voice. She eyes Ron's eating habits with a disapproving frown. "Honestly, I'm a bit anxious. It's such a hands-on class, and I feel like the textbooks don't explain flying very well."
"I'm sure you'll be fine, Hermione," Padma chimes in, trying to ease her friend's nerves. "Maybe next time we should find a different spot for lunch. You know, explore the castle a bit more and avoid those." She gestures nervously toward a few Slytherin students, smirking at her as she sits alone at the Gryffindor table without Anthony's intimidating look here to ward off their glare.
Harry glances around the Great Hall, crowded with first-year students. Most of the older students simply grab their food to either head toward nearby classrooms or settle in for a picnic on the grounds.
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind exploring Hogwarts a bit more," he agrees, nodding.
"You shouldn't let them bother you too much, Padma. Just look at Harry. He gets looks and whispers all the time. It gets old pretty quickly." Hermione delivers her usual lecture, her bossy tone irking Ron, who rolls his eyes.
Just then, Anthony strides into the hall, and Ezra stops chewing mid-bite, waving enthusiastically as if Anthony isn't already making his way toward them.
He's in remarkably good spirits for someone just coming out of a private chat with Snape.
"So, what did Professor Snape want from you? It must be good since you look so excited," Ron asks, glancing around to make sure no teachers are lurking before discreetly passing Anthony a couple of bottles of Butterbeer the twins brought back from Hogsmeade. Anthony has quickly become a big fan of the Weasley twins' little business venture among the students.
"Actually, he took me to the greenhouse to test my sensitive nose. Apparently, he and Professor Sprout are planting a garden of herbs for medical potions, and they want me to help as their assistant."
"That's amazing, Anthony! I'm so happy for you!" Ezra beams, his eyes sparkling with pride. "Anthony is fantastic with Herbology. Our little garden back home always grows the most beautiful flowers and the best fruits in all of Tadfield."
"What do you get in return for the job?" Ron asks, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.
After flustering at Ezra's compliment, Anthony turns to Ron with a wide, mock-serious grin. He sits up straight, a theatrical flourish accompanying his words. "Now, now, I am a good and upstanding student! It is my honor to assist our dear professors."
Laughter erupts from the group, even Hermione, who struggles to contain her giggles at his theoretical sarcasm.
Padma squints at Anthony, a teasing glint in her eye. "You're definitely planning to swipe some of those herbs, aren't you?"
"Oi, you snake! You're supposed to be on my team! We're both Slytherins…Besides, I help plant them, so I reckon it's only fair I get my share." Anthony retorts, a playful smirk on his face.
Ezra and Hermione share a reluctant glance, apprehensive about setting Anthony off again. Harry thinks they should give Anthony more credit. He's nothing but helpful and hilarious—a welcome relief compared to his other snobby housemates. Sure, Anthony carries an air of confidence, even a touch of arrogance, but it feels more like it's because he understands himself and his abilities rather than wanting to feel superior to everyone else.
"And speaking of snakes…" Ron jumps in, echoing Harry's thoughts. "I'm still surprised both of you got sorted into Slytherin."
"I don't. I’ve always known that I am a snake, and well..it’s not like I can do anything to change it so I learnt to be fine with it, besides snakes are pretty ace. " Anthony shrugs.
"Is that why you have a snake tattoo near your ear?" Hermione asks, her curiosity piqued. She hopes to mend things after their minor spat the other night, and Padma reassured her that Anthony isn't harboring any grudges.
"It's a birthmark, actually," Anthony says, slight excitement lighting up his expression. "It's something of a family trait to have certain snake-like features—the tattoo, the sensitive nose, and, well, a few other things. What surprises me, though, is that Padma here is in Slytherin too. I mean, your magic shares some similarities, but I thought the Sorting Hat considers personalities and your personal choices. Didn't it speak to you during your sorting?"
Padma nods, her eyes thoughtful. "It did. But I think the sorting is more about what you value than your personality. Take Hermione, for instance. She's so studious that I thought for sure she'd end up a Ravenclaw. But she's a Gryffindor. If you notice, most Ravenclaws are academic enthusiasts, but they value knowledge itself, while perhaps Hermione values the Gryffindor traits like bravery, friendship, and community more."
Hermione chimes in, "Oh, that could actually be true! The hat told me it thinks I'd fit best in Gryffindor, and based on what I read about Hogwarts, I prefer Gryffindor, so I just went with it. What about you, Harry?"
Harry hesitates for a moment, recalling his brief struggle with the Sorting Hat. "Well, the hat said I'd do fine in all four houses, but it thought that… Anyway, I told it that as long as it's not Slytherin, then the the hat said ‘Gryffindor it is’. What about you, Padma?" He turns back to her, sidestepping the thought of how the hat tried to convince him he'd thrive in Slytherin. He knows Padma and Anthony might challenge the notion that Slytherin is just about privileged, stuck-up rich kids, but he can't shake the irritated feelings that he may be more fit in Slytherin than Gryffindor. Harry would never allow greatness or fame to overshadow family values.
Padma smiles, her tone light. "For me, the hat also said I would do fine in any house, but I asked it to pick the one that would help me develop my magic the most. I honestly thought it might choose Gryffindor, so Slytherin took me by surprise. I guess there's something about Slytherin culture I need to learn."
"Wait, the hat allows you guys to choose?!" Ron bursts out, incredulous. "All it said to me was, 'Hah! Another Weasley! I know exactly what house is good for you!'"
"Maybe it's because there are some signature Gryffindor valuable traits in your family line, just like in Anthony's," Ezra suggests wisely. "You should be proud of that, Ron." Ron beams at this, a wide smile breaking across his face. Harry feels a wave of relief. He appreciates it when Ron isn't dwelling on the financial struggles of his family, to whom Harry's eternally grateful that he ran into at King's Cross train station.
Ezra continues, "As for me, the hat also says I'm qualified for all four houses, but I ask it to put me in the one that helps me most in continuing my father and grandmother's studies."
"Ah! The one that got your dad A.Z. Fell known on the Chocolate Frogs?! It's strange how I've searched everywhere for that card but never found one. There wasn't even a self-portrait of your dad in the official Chocolate Frog's notes, just his name. I think they mentioned he was investigating the true essence of magic," Ron says while glancing at Ezra.
Ezra's eyes light up. "Oh, you remember! Yes, erm… I don't have any portraits of my dad, but a few of his old friends say I look exactly like him. Even Professor Dumbledore said so when he bumped into me and Anthony in Hosmedge."
"Has your dad ever published his works? Because I haven't read any papers from your dad's study. All I've seen is his name in the credits of old studies alongside many wise wizards and witches." Hermione adds.
"Ah… unfortunately, no. My dad hasn't shared his work with the public. The subject matter is a bit sensitive," Ezra replies, his expression growing serious. "You see... he thinks that magic is…"
Just then, the bells from a nearby clock tower chime loudly, cutting off Ezra's words and jolting them back to reality. They realize with a start that they're about to be late for flying class with Madam Hooch.
As they scramble to gather their things, Harry can't shake the feeling that they're on the brink of remembering something important. But time is ticking, and flying class awaits—there's no time to waste
Harry feels as if he's a duck gliding effortlessly through the water, his broom responding to his every command with a grace that makes the wind sing around him. However, the joint class of Slytherins and Gryffindors bristles with tension, poised to erupt at any moment. The atmosphere shifts abruptly when Neville loses his balance, tumbling from his broom and landing awkwardly on the ground, his painful yelp slicing through the air and sending a shudder through the onlookers.
Madam Hooch, with her greying hair pulled back tightly and her piercing eyes surveying the scene like a hawk assessing its prey, rushes to Neville's side. Ezra keeps pace beside her, both of them bending protectively over the fallen boy, a sense of urgency enveloping them.
"Broken wrist in both arms," Madam Hooch announces, her voice sharp and commanding as she gently prods Neville. "Come on, boy, we're getting you to Madam Pomfrey's nursery."
"Wait, I think I can help," Ezra interjects his brow knitting in concentration. Harry watches, captivated, as Ezra hovers his palm cautiously over one of Neville's broken wrists. In a hushed whisper, he mutters an incantation, and with astonishing swiftness, the swelling begins to retreat, much to the amazement of everyone present. Even Madam Hooch's face betrays her surprise, revealing that this type of miraculous recovery isn't something even experienced wizards can easily achieve.
"Wait, stop, boy," Madam Hooch commands, her tone now tinged with urgency. "You're coming with me to Madam Pomfrey as well, and you…" she quickly turns her attention to Neville, "hold on to that other broken wrist a little longer. I need Madam Pomfrey to witness this."
Standing tall, Madam Hooch addresses the rest of the class with an authority that brooks no disagreement. "You all will stay here and put your brooms aside! No one flies until I return, or you risk being kicked out of my class. Do you understand? Now, come on, you two."
Anthony starts to follow them, a deep concern etched across his features, but Ezra shakes his head in reassurance, signaling that he will manage on his own. Reluctantly, Anthony nods, returning to the task of sorting the brooms, casting one last anxious glance at his friend as the duo disappears from view.
Draco Malfoy picks up the Rememberall that Nevile dropped during his fall, a flicker of wicked delight in his eyes as he taunts, "Look, it's the one Neville's grandmother sends him during breakfast!" He cradles the ball as if it were a trophy, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
"Give it back, Malfoy," Harry responds, his voice low and simmering with frustration, the heat of anger creeping into his tone.
"Or what?!" Draco's challenge drips with bravado, Crabble and Goyle standing behind him like ghoulish sentinels, their smirks a reflection of their master's mischief.
"You heard him, Malfoy. Just hand it over to Harry, please," Anthony interjects, stepping into the fray with an unexpected calm that slices through the tension. The ease of his authority momentarily unnerves Crabble and Goyle, who exchange uncertain glances.
Draco's composure wavers as he assesses the situation. Without warning, he leaps onto his broom, rising with a flourish into the air, exclaiming, "Come and get it then!" The challenge echoes in the crisp air.
Harry and Anthony swiftly mount their broomsticks.
"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all into trouble."
They ignore her and chase after Draco as he glides higher, the wind whipping through his hair. He casts a quick glance back, unease blooming on his face as he realizes they are closing in on him.
"Hey! Two against one isn't fair!" he protests, indignation coloring his voice, his posture rigid as he hovers defiantly.
"Give it back and we'll stop," Harry retorts, determination set in his features, the rivalry sparking a fervent energy around them.
"What do you know about playing fair, ferret?!" Anthony counters. The wind tousles his hair with a rude elegance, and he leans towards Harry, whispering conspiratorially, "You aim for the Rememberall. I'll handle Malfoy."
With newfound resolve, Harry nods and spirals upward, his broom slicing the wind, lifting him higher than Draco, who frantically pedals to match his ascent. Below, Anthony bracingly prepares for the inevitable confrontation.
In a moment of sheer desperation, Draco throws the Rememberall skyward, watching it tumble toward one of Hogwarts' stone towers. Without a second thought, Harry speeds after the shimmering sphere, leaving Malfoy and Anthony in their confrontation.
As Harry swoops over the tower, he grasps the Rememberall victoriously. Almost as swiftly, he notices Anthony tackling Malfoy, clutching him by the neck with his strong grip, and executing a dramatic descent with his broom while draging Draco with him.
Malfoy's face contorted to a comic shade of purple, and Harry burst into laughter at the chaos unfolded below him.
In this moment of triumph, he catches sight of Professor McGonagall, perched on the window ledge of the tower where she could only saw Harry and not the whole fiasco beforehand. Her expression a tempest of righteous discipline. "HARRY POTTER!" her voice booms, slicing through the mirth like a sword.
Startled, Harry's laughter evaporated, replaced by a rush of anxiety that floods his cheeks with warmth. He turns to face Professor McGonagall, his body caught in a tumultuous clash between the thrill of victory and the dread of a possible reprimand.
As Harry nervously follows her through the grand, echoing halls of Hogwarts, his mind races, fixated on the fear of being expelled. To his surprise, she leads him to Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"While your reckless flying is hardly advisable," McGonagall remarks, her tone brisk yet underlined with a hint of admiration, "I must confess, your reflexes are quite impressive."
To Harry's astonishment, she announces to Wood that she has found a new Seeker for the team. Oliver's expression shifts from confusion to sheer delight.
"Are you serious, Professor?" he gasps, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Absolutely," she replies, a faint smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. "The boy's a natural. Tell me, Potter, is this your first time on a broomstick?"
Harry nods, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions. McGonagall recounts the incident where he caught the Rememberall after a daring fifty-foot dive, somehow managing to emerge unscathed. She glances at Wood with a sense of conviction,Wood nods in agreement,"Harry’s also built for a Seeker—light and quick."
"I'll have a word with Dumbledore about bending the first-year rule," McGonagall adds, her authority firm yet encouraging.
Stunned, Harry processes the gravity of her words. "Really? You want me on the team?" he asks, disbelief lacing his voice.
"Absolutely," McGonagall affirms, her stern demeanor softening just enough to let warmth seep through. "Your instincts and speed are just what we need."
In that instant, Harry's anxiety morphs into pure exhilaration. Gratefully, he exclaims, "Thank you, professor! Thank you, Wood. I promise I won't let you down!" His earlier fears dissipate as he envisions the thrilling prospect of joining the Quidditch team.
His thoughts then drift to Anthony, and he adds, "Ah, Anthony is really talented as well. He... um, has a very strategic mind when it comes to working in a team." Harry hesitates, not wanting to divulge too much and risk landing his friend in trouble.
"Ah, the handsome Slytherin first-year? Really? He's good too?" Wood's excitement is palpable. "I heard he is quite friendly with other houses. That might ruffle some feathers among the other members of Slytherin's Quidditch team. But hey, that's good for us!"
McGonagall casts a discerning glance at Wood before turning her attention back to Harry. "Unfortunately, the boy is under Professor Snape's guidance. Only he can decide whether Anthony is permitted to play for the team or not. However, I'm pleased to see that you don't allow house rivalries to interrupt your friendships or the recognition of talent from other teams. Well done, Harry."
Harry blushes at the praise, nodding in acknowledgment, his heart pounding with a mix of pride and excitement.
Midnight duel
In the afternoon as they gather around Gryffindor's common room, excitement fills the air like a palpable energy. Harry, with his trademark grin, announces the thrilling news of his selection for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. His friends stare at him, their jaws practically hitting the floor.
"But you're a first-year!" Ron exclaims, incredulity dancing in his eyes. "That would make you the youngest Seeker in—erm..."
"In nearly a century, Harry. Well done!" Padma interjects, her astonishment clear.
Turning to Anthony, Harry shares his thoughts. "If you're interested in joining, I spoke with Professor McGonagall and she said she could take you to talk with Professor Snape about joining the Slytherin team."
Anthony shakes his head, a hint of resignation in his expression. "Nah, Quidditch is a team game, and I don't think the older Slytherin students would want to be teammates with a first-year. Maybe if I bribe them, but That just sounds like too much trouble. But thanks for recommending me anyway."
Harry nods, a chuckle escaping him. "Anytime, mate. That was epic, especially the way you grabbed Malfoy and dragged him down like a baby."
Laughter erupts among Harry, Ron, and Anthony, but it quickly draws disapproving glares from Hermione and Ezra.
"You could have hurt him—and yourself! You and Harry risked trouble for Gryffindor as well," Hermione admonishes, her tone a mix of concern and irritation.
"None of that happened, and thanks to it, I made the team," Harry defends Anthony, his loyalty unwavering.
"Okay, enough already. Ezra, why don't you share your good news with Harry?!" Padma suggests, eager to defuse the tension.
Ezra hesitates, glancing around the room. "Erm, well… Madam Pomfrey had asked me to assist her in the hospital wing. She was really impressed with my healing spell and thought I'd be a great help during the Quidditch season."
"Congratulations, Ezra!" Harry exclaims enthusiastically. "With you around, I won't have to worry about falling…"
Hermione's eyebrows rise in disapproval. "Harry, you shouldn't rely on Ezra and be reckless. Yes, you've made the team, but you were taking unnecessary risks. Ezra became an assistant without endangering house points or anyone's safety. You need to follow his example."
"Oh, for God's sake, Hermione! Can you just be happy for your friends once?!" Ron snaps, frustration evident in his voice.
"Ron!" Padma reprimands him, her tone sharp. "Hermione just wants the best for us."
"And so do I! Look, I'm not saying Hermione doesn't know better. She clearly does, considering her maximum scores tie with Ezra's. But that doesn't mean she has the answers for every situations. Harry, Anthony, and Ezra were able to achieve remarkable things because they acted out and most importantly they did it to help others not just to take risks without thinking. Besides, you and Anthony are smart too, but you all don't seem to care about your scores and go anroung acting like the biggest killjoy in the room," Ron retorts.
"Okay, that's enough…" Ezra steps in, feeling the atmosphere shift uncomfortably.
But then Anthony speaks up, "Ron's got a point, though." Ezra's heart races with nervousness. "Anthony…" he whispers, but Anthony presses on. "Ron's right. Hermione needs to learn to relax. Angel, you and Padma coddle her too much. She's going to grow into a stuck-up know-it-all with no friends aside from you two."
Hermione's face flushes a deep red, and standing abruptly, she storms out of the common room, with Ezra and Padma quick on her heels, calling her name in an effort to bring her back. The warmth of the common room feels suddenly colder, the laughter a distant memory as tension hangs in the air.
As the dinner hall buzzes with chatter, Harry and Ron settle at their usual spot, anticipation crackling in the air. They're the first to arrive, but it's not long before Draco Malfoy strides in with his two loyal sidekicks trailing behind him. A smirk twists on Draco's lips, and he zeroes in on Harry with a glare that could cut glass.
"That fight was unfair, and you know it, Potter. It was two against one," he snarls, bitterness dripping from his words.
Harry rolls his eyes, unbothered. "Oh please, Malfoy. That wasn't even a fight. It was just doing what was right. Both Anthony and I just wanted to get the Rememberall back to Neville. If you had just handed it over, you wouldn't be feeling humiliated right now. And as for a fight? You and me, anytime."
Fury tinges Draco's cheeks a furious red. "Oh, I'm a wizard! I'm not going to fight in some barbaric Muggle way. A duel tonight, just you and me, no seconds."
"Sounds good to me! You better show up and not pull a cowardly stunt. Anthony will let me know if you decide to back down halfway, Malfoy." Harry flashes a confident grin, his voice steady, calling Draco's bluff.
For a brief moment, Draco's eyes widen, a flicker of hesitation passing through them. He mutters angrily, "Midnight, Trophy Room," before storming off to the Slytherin table. Across the hall, Anthony raises an eyebrow, curious about the commotion. Harry and Ron exchange glances and mouth a quick message—Duel at midnight. Anthony nods, catching their meaning.
The atmosphere shifts as Ezra and Padma enter the hall, their expressions heavy with concern. Without Hermione at their side, Harry and Ron exchange worried glances.
As Ezra settles down with them, he speaks reluctantly, "You guys could have been nicer to her... Hermione wants some space right now. We ought to bring back some extra food for her, just in case she missed dinner."
Harry and Ron feel a twinge of guilt. It sinks in that Ezra, Padma, and even Hermione herself recognize some truth in their words. They would feel validated in their reasoning, yet the thought of Hermione crying during dinner stabs at them. Their appetites vanish, and they join Ezra in gathering food, carefully packing it into a smaller box, each piece feeling heavier than the last.
Once they make their way back to the common room, Ezra waits for Hermione while Harry and Ron slip into their shared bedroom. They borrow Ezra's phone to call Anthony, eager to confirm that Draco's pride is wounded enough to ensure he'll show up.
Anthony answers, laughter in his tone, "Yeah, Draco's pretty insistent now. Good job on playing with his pride. I've got to do some grounding keeping with Filch for my detention so I can help make sure we're not caught."
Harry raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What about Goyle and Crabbe?"
"They thought they were just supposed to lure you two to the Trophy Room and then report back to Filch when you showed up," Anthony chuckles. "Now that Draco's wanting to show up, he's on his own."
Ron snorts, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So much for friendship, huh?"
As the clock strikes midnight, Harry and Ron slip quietly out of the Gryffindor common room, hearts pounding with excitement and a hint of trepidation. They hope Hermione and Ezra, sprawled on the couch, are either fast asleep or lost in conversation, too preoccupied to notice their escape. But, of course, their hopes are dashed as Hermione's voice rings out, sharp and incredulous.
"I can't believe you two are risking house points again!" she scolds, her arms crossed tightly.
"It'll be fine!" Ron counters with a shrug, a grin creeping onto his face. "If we make it back in one piece, there's nothing to worry about. Besides, Anthony's on detention duty tonight. He won't let us get caught."
"That's still not a guarantee," Hermione replies, her tone firm. She exchanges a quick glance with Ezra, and together, they stride over to join Harry and Ron. Normally, Ron and Harry would roll their eyes at Hermione's insistence, but tonight her soft, puffy eyes swayed them.
The four of them—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ezra—make their way to the trophy room under the cloak of darkness. They're soon joined by Anthony, Padma, and Draco, who grumbles in the corner, clearly feeling outnumbered.
"Alright, listen up," Anthony says, glancing at his watch. "Filch and Mrs. Norris are on patrol in the dorms. I'll handle the main hall area. Around 1:30 or 2:00, they'll be searching the Hufflepuff area. Until then, you can duel here."
Draco shifts from foot to foot, clearly anxious."This isn't fair. You're all ganging up on me!" he huffs, frustration bubbling over.
"Oh, come on! We won't all jump you at once. Just you and Harry. We're not cowards —unless you're too scared to face him alone," Ron teases, a cocky smirk plastered across his face as Draco's cheeks flush red.
Padma chimes in, her tone sharp, "You're just jealous that Harry has real friends who stand by him, even when we're arguing, while you don't."
Before Draco can muster a retort, Anthony suddenly sits up, sensing trouble.
"Crap, Snape's coming this way! I think he's been tipped off by Crabbe and Goyle. Quick, follow me!" He swings open the door, ushering them into a shadowy corridor.
"Wait, isn't this the forbidden area on the third floor?" Hermione shrieks, dread flooding her voice. "Professor Dumbledore warned us to stay away unless we want to die a painful death!"
"Relax! It's just Fluffy, Mr.Hagrid's three-headed dog. They most of the time. If they wakeup, just play some classical music, and they’ll settle down again. Snape won't find you in here. Now, go inside!" Anthony insists, practically shoving them through the door before he closes it behind them.
As they step into the dimly lit room, the scale of the three-headed dog becomes apparent, and unease ripples through the group.
"Great, how are we supposed to play classical music if that thing wakes up?" Ron mutters, trying to sound brave but failing.
"Don't worry, I've got a Sony Walkman with me," Padma whispers, rummaging through her bag. Pulling out the compact device, she expertly enlarges it with a flick of her wand.
"What in the world is that? Is it from the Muggle world?" Draco sneers quietly, disgust evident in his voice.
"Yep. And it might just be our ticket out of here if things go sideways," Padma snaps back, annoyed with Draco's pureblood prejudices.
"Is it guarding something?" Harry asks, glancing nervously at the ominous door behind Fluffy.
"….There must be something important for Dumbledore to set a three-headed dog to guard it," Ezra observes, eyes wide with curiosity.
As roughly fifteen minutes slip by, Anthony bursts into the room, panic etched across his features. He quickly herds them back toward Gryffindor Tower, urgency in every hurried step.
"Shit, shit,shit! Someone just spotted Nundu tracks near the Forbidden Forest," he exclaims, eyes wide with dread. "Professor Dumbledore is raising wards around Hogwarts to sense them as soon as they cross into the area, but just in case those two baby nundus are already sneaking around the school, Professor Snape handed me a magic mask to help combat the toxic air if we come across them. All the portraits are on high alert, instructed not to let any cats or animals into the dorm."
"Great, just great. First, we have that three-headed dog, and now nundus?" Ron groans, frustration spilling over. "Seriously, Malloy, couldn't you have chosen a different night for your little showdown?!"
"How the hell would I know ?!" Draco snaps back, his tone sharp.
"Enough, you two," Anthony interjects, the tension thick in the air. "I can only make one more copy of this mask, so we'll have two in total. I won't be affected by the toxins thanks to…my family's traits, but the six of you will need to share the masks until we're safe. Understand?!"
"Wait a minute, Anthony," Ezra interjects, furrowing his brow as he weighs their options. "You and I can use our wands to shield our hearts from heart failures. Padma and Hermione should wear the masks while I can keep an eye on myself." He pulls out his wand, determination etched on his face as he points it at his chest. "Since Anthony is immune to toxic, he can switch his wand between the Ron, Harry and Draco every few minutes until we make it to our dorms. If we run into those baby nundus, all you three have to do is to hold your breath to protect yourselves from inhaling too much toxin before we manage to escape. I think I have some spells that can help heal you in case you inhaled a little of the toxicity. Don't worry, those nundus won't exhale their toxic air unless they feel threatened. Besides, they're just babies. Their poison isn't extreme fatal."
A flicker of relief mixes with determination as the group trails behind Anthony, their hearts pounding in synchrony. Each step feels heavy, weighed down by the unshakable hope that they are not racing into a horde of baby nundus. When Harry's gaze lands on the vibrant portrait of the Fat Lady, a wave of calm washes over him, as comforting as finally returning home after a long and arduous journey.
They murmur the password, and she swings the entrance open with a familiar creak, the warmth of the common room wrapping around them like an old, cherished blanket.
But just as they cross the threshold, they freeze, breath catching in their throats. Right there, sprawled in the middle of Gryffindor's common room, lies a cat—a considerable size larger than your average house pet. The sight sends a shiver skimming down their spines, a sudden jolt amidst the relief, and bewildered glances flit around as they try to make sense of this jarring discovery.
Before anyone can react, Draco, positioned conveniently between Hermione and Ezra, yanks Hermione's mask off her face and hastily covers his own with it before bolting away.
In an instant, Ron tugs at the tip of Anthony's wand, still firmly gripped in Anthony's hand, pushing it closer to Hermione's heart as he maneuvers her toward the end of the wand. The sudden movement nearly sends both Anthony and Hermione stumbling.
"Fucking coward! Stealing from a girl!" Ron hisses under his breath, his eyes locked on Draco, who has already darted away from Gryffindor's common room.
Suddenly, the baby nundu pivots its head toward them shakingly, and a wave of shock washes over the group.
Somebody has sealed up the nundu's eyes. A big fracture wound on its face showing them that his nose and jaw has been hit repeatedly by something sharp to the point they can see its bone, its fur is matted and dirtied with dried blood. The nundu makes sound resembling a groan painfully.
Harry, Ron, and Ezra stand frozen, holding their breath in the tense silence of the moment. Ezra prepares to cast a protective spell, but before he can, Padma's voice cuts through the air behind her mask. "Wait! I think the nundu's injury broke its toxic air line."
Anthony takes a cautious breath, his senses heightened as he samples the air. He nods slowly, the relief washing over them all as he assures his friends that it's safe to breathe.
With some trepidation, the group approaches the wounded nundu, each step filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. They draw closer, examining the majestic creature lying there, its eyes sealed shut.
"The seal on its eyes... somebody is torturing this poor nundu," Padma says, her heart aching at the sight of the helpless cat sprawled before them.
"How did it get here?!" Ron's voice carries disbelief, echoing the questions lingering in the air.
"Someone must have slipped it inside without anyone noticing. They left it here on purpose…" Anthony deduces, his tone grim as the reality of their discovery sinks in.
Ezra quickly tended to some of its wounds, his hands deftly weaving through the delicate threads of magic. Then, he attempted to reverse the injury back to its original state, casting the same spell he had used earlier that afternoon to mend Neville's broken wrists. To his shock, the spell fails to take effect on the nundu. Ezra leans in for a closer inspection of the wound, his wand trembling in his hand. Horror washes over him as he whispers, his breath shallow and quick.
"..They took out its eyes, bones and the toxic core…We can't heal it with spell. Spell can only work to recover something broken not lost. We have to brew some regrow potion for it. Nundu is a fantastic beast it can not used the same skelegrowth potion for human, we have to brew the specific potion for it. This can take up weeks.."
Harry, Hermione, Padma, and Ron feel their faces drain of color as the gravity of the Nundu's plight washes over them.
"Wait, you're planning to keep it?!" Padma exclaims, disbelief and concern mingling in her tone. "We should hand it back to the teachers or the Ministry of Magic."
Anthony interjects, "If it gets caught—or even if it comes into view—it gets put down. Even if it survives the capture, they likely resort to a mercy killing, declaring it no longer useful."
Padma narrows her eyes, suspicion flickering within her. "How do you know that?!"
Ezra and Anthony exchange alarmed glances, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They remain silent, clearly hiding something.
Ron adds, "Anthony is right. My brother ,Bill, works with dragons for the Ministry. He complains about how fantastical creatures get treated terribly, especially those deemed dangerous like the Nundu. They rank even higher in danger than dragons. Once one escapes its cage, it's likely to be killed on sight."
Harry frowns, frustration etching lines across his forehead. "But that's so unfair! Someone killed their mother and took them from their cage. They didn’t break free on their own. We should tell Professor Dumbledore, he’ll understand."
Anthony shakes his head. "No, he won't…He might sympathize, but as headmaster, he cannot jeopardize student safety."
Ron sighs heavily, resigned. "The law is the law, Harry. Nundus rank just below certain serpent-like creatures in danger. These measures exist to stop wizards and witches from acquiring such beasts on their own. But maybe… we can keep it, nurse it back to health, and then I talk to Bill about finding a way to smuggle it back to South Africa, where it can join other Nundus."
They turn to Padma and Hermione, who nod in quiet agreement, their resolve strengthening.
Anthony continues, "But first we must disguise it. We can't leave it around in its true form. Ezra, give me your magic because if we are going to fool our teachers, including Dumbledore, I need your help as well."
Ezra nods, taking Anthony's hand, and together they touch the nundu with their wands. A few moments later, Harry watches in amazement as the nundu transforms into a house cat, yet its wounds remain unchanged.
"Oh my. Your magic is incredibly advanced," Padma says. "I've seen it in classes before, but what you just did... I've never seen magic done like that."
"I haven't even read about it in any books," Hermione adds, equally amazed.
"It's from my dad's notes. He left us specific wands, too. Until now, I still can't figure out what core they are made from," Ezra responds, continuing to cast a pain-relief spell for the nundu, which now resembles an injured house cat. The cat crawls into his lap, nudging its head against his palm, droplets of blood dripping from where its eyes should be.
"What's wrong with the blood? Is there still some internal injury?" Hermione leans down, wiping the blood with her handkerchief.
"It's crying... it must have been a long time since it felt safe," Ezra says, his voice emotionally charged.
"Oh, you poor thing," Hermione whispers as she leans closer and gently touches its head.
"I wonder who puts it here, though? Did you and Ezra see anyone suspicious while you were here after dinner?" Harry asks, glancing between Hermione and Ezra. They shake their heads in unison.
"No, it was just a couple of Gryffindor students coming in and out." Hermione replies, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.
Anthony frowns, leaning down to sniff at the cat nestled on the Ezra’s lap. His nose is really use full for them. Suddenly, he straightens, eyes wide with realization. "It smells like Ron—and…is that a rat’s smell?! And something rotten, like a dead body or something. And a hint of…onion?!"
"What?! Me? I've been with you guys the whole time!" Ron protests, his voice rising in disbelief.
"Relax, we're not suspecting you. Even if we were, your acting skills can't be this good...It must be one of your siblings," Padma concludes.
"Wait…PERCY!!" Ron exclaims, his face lighting up. "He has a pet rat. Mum and Dad were planning to get him a new owl as a gift for being a prefect, but he said he wanted to keep the rat because it's useful. Fred and George think he's using the rat to spy on them!"
"Shh! Keep it down. You don't want to wake the other students," Hermione hisses, glancing around the dimly lit corridor.
"Yeah, it's getting really late. I need to report back to Filch," Anthony says, checking his watch anxiously. "Look, it could just be a coincidence that Ron's brother's rat crosses paths with that cat while spying for him. Either way, we should leave the investigation for tomorrow and get some sleep."
With that, they part ways—Anthony and Padma heading back toward the dungeons while Ezra gently soothes the cat, whispering softly as they make their way to the dormitory.
As they walk, Hermione quietly thanks Ron for pushing her towards Anthony’s wand earlier, her voice barely above a whisper. He nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Harry watches the exchange, feeling a surge of hope that perhaps, there won't be any heavy arguments within their group anytime soon. He smiles to himself, relishing the comfort of their camaraderie in the softly lit halls of Hogwarts.