Clara Black and the Hidden Chamber

Pixies? More Like Demons!

The next morning was boring. Any grins that did appear faded quickly. Things went downhill and straight to hell from breakfast.

The four long House tables were laden with porridge, plates of kippers, toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath dull, cloudy gray sky. Shame. I like it sunny.

Harry and Ron sat down across from Hermione and I. Hermione had Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. I was keeping an eye out for Emma, but said, "Morning," when the boys sat.

"Morning." Hermione said stiffly. She still disproves of how they arrived. Neville Longbottom greeted them cheerfully. Neville was a round-faced accident prone boy with the absolute worst memory I've ever met, but he's alright.

"Mail's due in any minute-I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot." He said, pulling my eyes away from their fixed stare at the Hufflepuff table. 

"Damn! I was supposed to write Mom last night. She's going to be pissed." I mumbled. Now that she's in Britain, it would only take a day for letters to come.

I only just started my bacon, when the hundreds of owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages on the chattering crowd below. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying us all with milk and feathers. Not a good combination.

"Errol!" said Ron, pulling the owl out by his feet. I recognized it as the owl that delivered Ron's letters over the summer. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope attached. 

Damp red! Oh, shit!

"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 pointed at the Howler. Ron, Neville and I waited for it to explode.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. Right, Muggles. Doesn't know what a Howler is and the obvious threat it poses to Ron's reputation.

"She's -she's sent me a Howler," Ron said, faintly. 

"Open it," I ordered. "It'll be over quick."

"You'd better open it, Ron." Said Neville timidly. "It'll be worse if you don't. My Gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and"-he gulped-"it was horrible."

Harry looked from our faces to the envelope. "What's a Howler?" he asked.

The Howler began to smoke at the corners. 

"God dammit! Just open the damn thing." I hissed. "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 I quick covered our ears. A roar of sound exploded from the letter, 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 were a hundred times louder than usual, and made plates and spoons rattle on the table. People were swiveling around to see who received the Howler. Adam and Frisk chuckled. I don't blame them. It wouldn't be the first time I laughed at someone else's misery.

"-LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD'VE DIED-"