"What do you mean, you won't be at Quidditch practice!" Angelina retorted after Harry told her about his detention. "Our first game against Slytherin is this weekend, and we have to train our new Keeper!"
"Well, it's not my fault that Umbridge woman is a ratbag who —"
"This isn't about her! You're going to end up costing us the cup if you can't get a hold of yourself!" Harry couldn't believe Angelina was already trying to blame Gryffindor's possible future defeat on one measly detention of his.
"This is the first detention I've gotten all year!" he trilled heatedly.
"And we're a whole month in. That's got to be some sort of record for you." Harry narrowed his eyes at his team captain. He would've expected this kind of reaction from Wood, but Angelina...
"I'm sorry," she said after a long pause. "I just wanted the whole team to be there to train Ron Weasley. If I'm being honest, I'm not entirely sure he's got what it takes to hold up Gryffindor's triumphant ego." Harry, feeling more resentful than before, said,
"Just give him a chance! He hasn't even flown in a game yet!"
"I know, I know... We've got a shot as long as you're our Seeker." She beamed at him, but Harry did not return a similar expression. Instead, he headed for the portrait hole and heard her call, "Just be there tomorrow, okay!" from behind him.
Harry made his way to dinner with indignation boiling up in his chest. It wasn't his fault that Malfoy had chosen that moment to be a moron or that Umbridge had inconveniently placed his detention at the exact same time as Quidditch practice. She probably did that on purpose, Harry thought savagely. Why did everyone always have to blame him for everything?
He was one of the first to arrive in the Great Hall, so he sat in silence at the Gryffindor table while others slowly filed in. The enchanted ceiling above contradicted his mood by portraying a deep purple, twilight sky dabbled with hundreds of glimmering stars. He saw a pale figure approach him through the orange glow of dozens of torches set ablaze and seat itself opposite of him.
"Hullo Nick," he greeted in a low voice.
"Dear me, Harry," said Nearly Headless Nick surveying him carefully. "What's got your wand in a knot?" Harry shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't be frowning on an evening like this, Young Lad! No sirree!"
"What's so special about this evening?" Harry asked. Nearly Headless Nick grinned through his silver complexion and said,
"I hear they've got some sort of celebration planned, hmm!" He gestured toward the staff table where Dumbledore, Snape, Umbridge, Professor Sinistra — the astronomy master — and to Harry's surprise, McGonagall were already seated.
"A celebration for what?" Nearly Headless Nick merely shrugged and glided off with a chuckle.
Harry heard the rumble of footsteps amplify as the rest of the students entered the Great Hall and took their seats at their house tables. Opera music could be heard over the chatter and footsteps. A battered scarlet convertible was slowly following the students into the hall. Harry could just make out Dobby's bat-like ears sprouting from the sides of his conductor hat in front of the unmistakable shape of Rubeus Hagrid who alone occupied the car's entire back row of seats.
Ron and Hermione sat across from Harry where Nearly Headless Nick had been moments ago wearing anxious expressions and eyeing him cautiously. It seemed as though they feared he might start throwing goblets of pumpkin juice across the table.
