Bloodline | Harry Potter x Reader [DISCONTINUED]

Fourth Year~Chapter Nine

Harry's POV

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter grey swirled overhead as (Y/N), Ron, Hermione and I examined our new timetables at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of ageing themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

'Today's not bad ... outside all morning,' said Ron, who was running his finger down his timetable, 'Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures ... damn it, we're still with the Slytherins ...'

'Double Divination this afternoon,' I groaned, looking down.

'You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?' said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. 'Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy.'

'No way,' said (Y/N), stabbing her fork into a sausage. 'Arithmancy was a nightmare – not that Divination is much better ...'

'Maybe it would have helped if you had paid a bit more attention in lesson,' Hermione pointed out. 'Personally, I think it's quite enjoyable.'

(Y/N) gave her an if-you-say-so look and resumed her breakfast.

'You're eating again, I notice,' said Ron, watching Hermione add liberal amounts of jam to her buttered toast.

'I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights,' said Hermione haughtily.

'Yeah ... and you were hungry,' said Ron, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise above us, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows, carrying the morning mail. Instinctively, I looked up, but there was no sign of white among the mass of brown and grey. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed.

A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel in his lap – Neville almost always forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home.

(O/N) swooped onto the table, in front of (Y/N). He had a letter tied to his leg, which (Y/N) removed quickly.

'I thought (O/N) was up in the Owlery,' said (Y/N), opening the envelope.

'He must have flown home, then,' said Hermione. 'If I'm right to assume that the letter is from your dad.'

'Yeah – it is,' (Y/N) scanned the writing on the piece of parchment. 'Dad's forbidden me from entering the Tournament ... I didn't want to enter, anyway! Honestly, he sees me as some reckless kid.'

'That's because you are,' I said, still hoping for Hedwig to arrive. 'You always end up getting into stuff, every year.'

'Er – yeah, so do you,' she said, pointing her fork at me. 'Don't act like it's all just me, Potter.'

Hermione must have noticed me looking at all the owls because she said, 'Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure he'll write back soon.'

Trying to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in my stomach, I returned to my porridge. Was it possible that something had happened to Hedwig, and that Sirius hadn't even got my letter?

My preoccupation lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable path until we arrived in greenhouse three, but here I was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants I had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick black giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly, and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.