Loons, Letters, and Leering Snakes
Narcissa had been expecting it, though no one else had. Bellatrix had been growing restless and wanted to voice her opinion. With the book in Slytherin's hands, she could do that freely.
Most students were shocked by her volunteering, but some of her fellow Slytherin students were glad. The book was in allied territory, their thoughts and opinions would no longer overstep boundaries or be considered socially unacceptable.
Dumbledore levitated the book to Ms. Black without any hesitation. Students all across the Hall were whispering about the dark witch. Bellatrix paid them no mind and turned to the right place.
LETTERS FROM NO ONE
“How do letters come from no one?” Dorcas asked.
Snape, having no sense of public behavior, rolled his eyes in a manner very unlike most in Slytherin House. “It means,” he drawled condescendingly. “He’s getting his letter from Hogwarts.”
He had no actual way of knowing this, but that didn't stop a superior tone from forming as he shared his rather lucky guess.
The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever > < knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.
“I'm going to murder that old bird if I ever see her,” Sirius seethed.
“Sirius Orion Black,” his mother snapped from across the Great Hall. He would be in big trouble if he continued to speak out of turn.
Frankly, the Gryffindor had expected a bigger blow-up, but that wasn't likely if Dumbledore was watching. He enjoyed riling up his mother, despite the harsh price for doing so.
Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley’s favorite sport: Harry Hunting.
“So I know he’s only eleven, but I've thought a lot about this, lads, and I think I want to kill him,” James said pleasantly.
He and his friends got to work plotting, scarring the nearby first and second years.
This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering > < Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.
“You’ll be going to Hogwarts, actually,” Dorea smiled proudly. She doubted that she was alive at this point in the future. Changing that much wasn't a priority for her, hearing about her grandson going through Hogwarts was enough.
“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. > < Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he’d said.
“Yes!” James cheered, “My kid’s a menace.”
One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she’d had it for several years.
The students around the Slytherin table either cringed or sneered. The Potter’s were a pureblood wixen family. Blood Traitors or not, having one of them treated like a house-elf was unacceptable.
Remus shuddered at the thought of chocolate tasting old and his friends laughed at his reaction.
That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new > < teachers weren’t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.
Narcissa felt sick at the thought of an outfit so garish. Several of her classmates, Slytherin or otherwise, clearly agreed.
Professor McGonagall was appalled yet again. How was hitting people with canes training for adulthood?
As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it > < himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.
The Marauders didn't bother trying to restrain themselves from laughing, nor did many other students.
There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.
Bellatrix wrinkled her nose at this. It sounded like a vile potion her mother often made to put curses on the rags for the house-elves. If they misbehaved it would burn their skin like acid, and it always smelled awful.
“What’s this?” he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.
Cynthia Nott did not appreciate some muggles trying to snuff out his curiosity. She was a Ravenclaw, though her younger sister and many of her relatives were Slytherin.
“Your new school uniform,” she said.
”Your new school uniform,” Bella mocked. She really wished the muggles would stop talking for once.
Harry looked in the bowl again.
“Oh,” he said, “I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.”
Many of the kids in the hall snickered, while others whispered something about a death wish.
“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Aunt Petunia. “I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old things gray for you. It’ll look just like everyone else’s when I’ve finished.”
“I very seriously doubt that,” Mary shuddered.
Kanan Patil grimaced. That sounded like his auntie, always trying to dye old clothes and say they look new and fashionable.
Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High — like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.
Lily groaned into her hands, muttering something the others couldn't hear. James and his friends laughed at Harry’s thoughts. It was pretty clear to them that the kid inherited James’ sense of humor.
Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry’s new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.
Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes. Carrying a cane in high society must be done with dignity and restraint, neither of which seem like gifts this heathen was blessed with.
They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.
“Get the mail, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.
People stared at the book in shock, wondering if they were actually making Dudley do something for once.
“Make Harry get it.”
“Get the mail, Harry.”
Nope, clearly not.
“Make Dudley get it.”
The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch. Sirius loved Harry’s sass, but he also knew that it was going to get him into some sirius trouble if he wasn't careful.
“Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.”
Shouts rang out across the Hall. Students were furious with the Durselys for how they were treating an innocent child.
Bellatrix enjoyed the chaos around her. She basked in it like praise and read on with more vigor.
Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay onthe doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — a letter for Harry.
The Marauders cheered at that last sentence. They were hoping it was Harry’s letter to Hogwarts, although it could be from another school.
Harry was in the range, or schooling district, of Hogwarts, but the Kolkata Academy of the Mystik Arts would accept Harry due to his family’s history of attending. There were, of course, other schools Harry could attend, but they wouldn't send him an invitation.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives
Both James and Lily felt an awful pang of sadness for the boy. They didn't know him and had never met him, but they knew Harry was their son. They could only hope to stay alive for him and raise him to be happy and loved.
— he didn’t belong to the library, so he’d never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
“Would someone like to tell me why the letter being addressed to the cupboard under the stairs didn't raise any flags?” Lily raged.
“The letters address themselves, Miss Evans,” Dumbledore smiled calmly.
If possible, Lily got even angrier. “Then it should be very easy to just look at the letters before you send them out!”
Dumbledore’s gaze turned a bit sterner and Lily knew she overstepped. “This is a mistake on our part that we will look into,” he said. “However, I believe that this is an issue to be addressed by the Hogwarts staff.”
The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.
”What’s a stamp?” Mordova Bajan, a Hufflepuff, asked.
“It's something muggles put on their letters for the cost of sending,” their friend tried to explain.
She nodded and turned her attention to the book again, not actually understanding what a stamp really was.
Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion,
The Gryffindors let out a loud cheer.
an eagle,
The Ravenclaws let out some shouts and claps.
a badger,
The Hufflepuffs cheered and clapped as well.
and a snake
The Slytherins let out a round of thunderous applause.
surrounding a large letter H.
Finally, a few of the teachers clapped politely.
“Hurry up, boy!” shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen.
“He’s got a name,” Peter grumbled.
“What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke.
“That joke sucked,” Remus said.
A lot of muggle-borns and a few half-blood students cringed at the insensitive attempt at humor.
Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.
“Don't open it in the kitchen!” little Marina Nott, a first year Slytherin, hissed.
Snape just rolled his eyes. A little voice in the back of his head noted the similarities between Harry Potter and himself, but his mind burned down with the image of James Potter sitting right next to his Lily and whispering into her ear. So he could find nothing but contempt for the kid.
Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, > < “Dad, Harry’s got something!”
Molly Weasley pursed her lips. She had one child and another quickly on the way, so she had nothing but hope they didn't turn out like that rotten little boy.
“This kid is really starting to piss me off,” Remus muttered darkly.
Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.
“Oi!” Someone yelled. “Fuck off!” they were sharply reprimanded by several teachers, but other students shouted in agreement.
“That’s mine!” said Harry, > < Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.
A couple students snickered at the image, but Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“P-P-Petunia!” he gasped. > < She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.
Bellatrix had worried this chapter would be boring, but so far she was enjoying watching muggles freak out. It was...amusing.
“Vernon! Oh my goodness — Vernon!”
Literally everyone in the hall was confused as to why the Dursley’s were being so ridiculously overdramatic.
They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still > < Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.
Dumbledore idly wondered why he would put Harry Potter under the care of his aunt and uncle. An inkling of a theory began to form in his mind, but nothing too concrete.
Harry didn’t move.
“Well, this’ll be good,” Mary mumbled. She had roomed with Lily Evans long enough to know there was a blow-up coming. Her temper mixed with James’ impulsiveness sounds like a vicious combination that didn't bode well for Hogwarts.
Severus Snape couldn't see any of Lily in this boy. He was impulsive, sarcastic, stupid, and lacked any sense of self-preservation.
“I WANT MY LETTER!” he shouted
The Marauders all cheered when Bellatrix read that line. They had some choice words to tell at the Dursley’s too.
“OUT!” roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of > < lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.
“He did not just throw him into the hallway,” James said, his voice dripping with homicide.
Many of the students near him moved as far away as possible, but with how angry all of his friends and family looked, there wasn't really anywhere to go.
“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, “look at the address > < write back? Tell them we don’t want —”
A few students snickered. Malfoy scoffed at the Dursleys. They had more important things to do than pay any attention to those muggles.
Harry could see Uncle Vernon’s shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen. > < not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we took him in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”
Bellatrix paused in shock after that line. The hall was frozen in horror. Most of the students knew what that mentality could do to a child, what it could do to their magic.
It was actually Walburga Black that set everyone off. She turned to the headmaster with haughty righteousness and spat out, “Well, I do believe that this is entirely your fault.”
The rest of the Great Hall erupted into jeers and shouts. Many blamed Dumbledore, some blamed the muggles, and others just called out the atrocity of it. The headmaster put a stop to the rioting when some students began to call for muggle/magical separation. He calmly told Bellatrix to continue reading
That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’d never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.
“I'm surprised he could fit,” Sirius sparked.
“Where’s my letter?” said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon > < Uncle Vernon shortly. “I have burned it.”
The cries of outrage were shorter at this. A student’s first Hogwarts letter was traditionally kept their entire life. It was a treasured object that many former students were buried with.
“It was not a mistake,” said Harry angrily, “it had my cupboard on it.” > < we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom
Dorea Potter had had more than enough. “My grandson is sleeping in a cupboard while that pig has two bedrooms?” she hissed out, reminding those around her that she was as Slytherin as they came. Only her husband and son didn't shy away from her, both offering looks of agreement.
“Why?” said Harry.
“Shhh,” Peter said. “Don't ask, just be happy you get a room.”
James’ eyes snapped to his friend. The glare on his face told Peter that he wasn't helping the situation.
“Don’t ask questions!” snapped his uncle. “Take this stuff > < all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they’d never been touched.
Narcissa looked like she might be ill at the state of that room. Bellatrix giggled at the look on her younger sister’s face, knowing just what a neat freak she was.
From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, I don’t want him in there…I need that room…make him get out...”
Dorcas and Marlene both looked at the book with matching sneers. Someone needed to knock some sense into that child.
Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he’d have given anything to be up here. Today he’d rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.
Alice, Lily, and Sirius all looked more than a little heartbroken at that admittance. That Harry would take a random letter over a bedroom to call his own.
Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He’d screamed, whacked his >< Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.
Animal lovers all across the Great Hall we're outraged that he’d thrown a tortise through a roof.
Regulus looked a bit shocked. He couldn't imagine ever hitting his father, and to imagine someone doing without consequences...
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who > < ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive —’
A few students rolled their eyes. Dudley was remarkably stupid, that much was obvious.
With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right > < straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry’s letter clutched in his hand.
Sirius and James, who had been cheering for Harry, both slumped in defeat when Vernon got the letter.
“Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom,” he > < And this time he’d make sure they didn’t fail. He had a plan.
The Marauders all shared a look. If Harry was anything like James, this plan would go spectacularly wrong.
The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly > < heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door —
The plan wasn't actually that bad, Sirius would silently concede, but that didn't mean it was going to work.
“AAAAARRRGH!”
Over four dozen students jumped when Bellatrix yelled out that line. She ignored the glares being sent her way and kept reading.
Rudolphus looked at Bellatrix like he was trying to solve a puzzle. They’d been betrothed since their fourth year, and he still knew so little about her.
Harry leapt into the air; he’d trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat — something alive!
Sirius looked at his boyfriend with a pleading grin on his face, “Please say that's what I think it is.”
Remus grinned right back and shook his head fondly. Across the table, Lily eyed the two thoughtfully. She’d noticed a change in the pair recently but hadn't made the connection yet.
Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror, Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle’s face.
The marauders all cheered loudly when they heard this. A few people laughed, but many were worried about what they would do to Harry now.
Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, > < but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.
Everyone was so done. At this rate, it was unlikely that Harry would ever get to read his Hogwarts letter.
Uncle Vernon didn’t go to work that day. He > < mouthful of nails, “if they can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.”
“Not exactly,” Rabastan mused.
Cynthia looked over from her place at the Ravenclaw table and smiled to herself. The Lestranges would never let her marry him, but that doesn't stop them from meeting secretly in Hogsmeade.
“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.”
“It most certainly will not,” McGonagall agreed.
“Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.
“And thank Merlin for that,” Charlus said.
On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn’t go through the mail slot they had been pushed > < He hummed “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” as he worked, and jumped at small noises.
“He really has gone mad!”
“I don't know why someone hasn't just delivered the letter in person.”
“Bloody hell.”
On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four > < earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Harry in amazement.
“Plenty of people, I’d think,” Molly said. “He is famous.”
On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.
Bellatrix pouted a bit at that line. She rather enjoyed reading about their suffering.
“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, “no damn letters today —”
“What does he mean?”
“Why wouldn't there be letters on Sunday?”
A muggleborn Ravenclaw shook her head at the questions and answered them in a way they would understand.
Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply > < Out! OUT!”
Severus considered this as further proof that the Potter boy was as stupid as his father. There would be plenty on the floor, why not grab one and run?
Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall.
The students had to cover their ears as the Gryffindor Table erupted into shoots of outrage, Lily Evans being among the loudest.
When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear > < ready to leave. We’re going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!”
”We’ll still find you,” Sirius said ominously.
His friends laughed, but privately agreed. The letters would find them, but so would the Marauders after they finished reading.
He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were about to climb into the car when Harry heard a “Hello” from behind him. Vernon jumped and whipped around as Harry turned to see his friend Rhian standing there with a bag in her hand. “Are you all going on a trip?” She asked.
“It’s Harry’s friend!” Lily said excitedly. She wanted to hear all about her.
Molly smiled and mumbled something about her being such a polite little girl.
Vernon looked at the girl with undisguised contempt. “Yes, yes,” he said hurriedly, anxious to get in the road.
James and his friends were pretty much sold instantly. Any enemy of Vernon’s was good in their eyes.
The young girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she watched Harry’s uncle glance around nervously. “Well, I only came over to drop off Harry’s present for his birthday,” she said. “It's been a very long time since I've seen him.”
”Because he’s been locked up,” Remus spat.
James didn’t even hear him. He was too excited to hear about his son’s birthday. Lily had a similar look on her face too.
Rhian didn't like the Dursley’s and they didn't like her. She and Harry would often sit at the park when he could get away and they would talk for hours. Her foster parents were pretty mean to her, but they weren't like Vernon and Petunia.
”Is everyone in their neighborhood bad at raising kids?” Frank asked. No one really had an answer for him.
She walked up and hugged Harry, passing him the small bag she held. “I’ll see you soon?” she said as a question. Harry could only nod hesitantly, hoping it was true.
”I hope they get to see each other soon,” Pandora said. She smiled softly and went back to drawing in the sketchbook in front of her.
Vernon then hurried Harry into the car and drove off.
Narcissa idly wondered where he thought he could take them that no one would find the family. Nowhere that she knew of.
They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn’t dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.
“Barking mad,” Sirius joked.
“Shake ’em off…shake ’em off,” he would mutter > < so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.
“I hope he's suffering,” Mary muttered.
Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. > < me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ’undred of these at the front desk.”
Bellatrix cringed at trying to read the man’s accent while people laughed in shock at the sheer amount of letters that had been sent for Harry.
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:
Mr. H. Potter
Room 17
Railview Hotel
Cokeworth
Lily looked up, a little shocked, and said, “Hey, I live in Cokeworth!”
Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand > < standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.
“Well, that should've raised some red flags.”
“Yeah, shouldn't she report that?”
“Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, > < halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.
“I feel like I should be very concerned,” Professor Cadence said, wondering just how sane this man was.
“Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.
“Yes, he has,” Barty laughed.
It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. > < last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks. Still, you weren’t eleven every day. He also remembered Rhian’s present, which he kept stowed under his seat to open on his birthday.
Lily’s heart broke as she silently swore to give her son ridiculous and fabulous presents every year. Unbeknownst to her, James was making a similar promise to himself.
Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package > < miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.
Sirius shuddered, that sounded like a nightmare.
“Storm forecast for tonight!” said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands > < at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.
“Nothing about this seems safe... Or legal,” a younger Gryffindor said.
Little Bill seemed to sense the tension in the room and started to cry. His mother pulled out her wand and cast a bubble charm for him to calm him down. A few people cooed at the little two-year-old.
“I’ve already got us some rations,” said Uncle > < wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.
”This sounds like a terrible idea,” a few younger girls from the Slytherin table said.
Uncle Vernon’s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.
“No wonder he’s skinny,” Professor Sprout said. That wasn't near enough food for two adults or growing boys.
“Could do with some of those letters now, eh?” he said cheerfully.
His Head of House and mother had to scold James for the rude gesture he made toward the book following that line.
He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, > < he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.
People were now seriously wondering how the Dursleys never got charged with child abuse.
The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn’t sleep. He shivered and turned over, > < wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.
“Don't worry, Harry,” Marlene said. “Professor McGonagall would make sure you went to Hogwarts!”
Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn’t going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he’d be able to steal one somehow.
Regulus flinched. He’d often had similar thoughts on nights he spent in the attic. Those were the nights when Sirius used to be at school and their parents needed someone else to get angry at.
Lily Evans dropped her onto her arms, which were laying on the table. Her son was absolutely miserable and there was nothing she could do.
Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?
“Oh, please don't say that, ” Lily mumbled into her arm.
One minute to go and he’d be eleven. Thirty seconds...twenty…ten…nine — maybe he’d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him — three…two…one…
“Yes, please do!” James said. The kid could do with being annoyed.
BOOM.
A few people jumped and shrieked when Bella yelled out that line.
The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.
“The chapter’s over,” Bellatrix said pleasantly. She took great delight in leaving the Hall in suspense. People all around her were talking and calling for someone to read.
“Perhaps we should take a break,” Dumbledore announced. He ignored the shouts of protest and summoned the book from the Slytherin Table. “We’ll reconvene in an hour.” The headmaster then left the room, book in hand, and walked into the room behind the Great Hall.