𝐀𝐈𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘┊ᴴᵃʳʳʸ ᴾᵒᵗᵗᵉʳ

18 ✦ 𝐺𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑦 𝐿𝑜𝑐𝑘ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑡

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The next day, however, was not as normal as Crystal hoped. Things started to go downhill starting from the breakfast in the Great Hall.

Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table on either sides of Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. Crystal sat beside Ron reading her morning newspaper as usual because Hermione wasn't talking to her as usual.

There was a slight stiffness in the way she said “Morning,” which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived and understood why Crystal was sitting beside Ron instead of her.

Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully, “Mail’s due any minute -- I think Gran’s sending a few things I forgot.”

Crystal had only just started on her fruits when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in.

A second later, and something large and gray fell into Hermione’s jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"Uh-oh. . . " Crystal muttered as her newspaper got splashed milk with. She restored it back with a spell.

“Errol!” said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

“Oh, no -- ” Ron gasped.

“It’s all right, he’s still alive,” said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

“It’s not that -- it’s that.”

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Crystal, but Ron, Harry and Neville were looking at it as though they expected it to explode. There was white envelope beside it which addressed to Harry and Crystal.

“What’s the matter?” said Crystal.

“She’s -- she’s sent me a Howler,” said Ron faintly.

“You’d better open it, Ron,” said Neville in a timid whisper. “It’ll be worse if you don’t. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and” -- he gulped -- “it was horrible.”

Crystal looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

“What’s a Howler?” she asked.

But Ron’s whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners. Harry nudged him in the ribs gulping hard and looking scared.

"Go ahead, mate," Harry said, ready to cover his ears, "May your soul rest in peace,"

“Open it,” Neville urged. “It’ll all be over in a few minutes --”

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol’s beak, and slit it open.

Neville and Harry stuffed their fingers in their ears.

A split second later, Crystal knew why. She thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

“-- STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE --”

Mrs. Weasley’s yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls.

“-- LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU, CRYSTAL AND HARRY COULD ALL HAVE DIED --”