Much to Horace Slughorn's dismay, Artemis Potter and Tom Riddle seem to have drifted apart a little despite having spent the summer holidays with each other. So, of course, it is upto him to bring them closer once more. If only his superb match-maki...
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----------------------> TOM WAS THE LONE PERSON to have followed Filomina's instructions to be ready at the designated time—soon after lunch—to head to the Quidditch game occurring in the evening. He tapped his feet, straightened the collar of his dark shirt, and adjusted the straps of his backpack as he waited for the others.
Charlus, having woken up only when he was called down for lunch, entered the parlour next, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Fleamont shadowed his brother, making rounds as he dragged in three trunks while wearing his backpack.
Henry Potter glided down the cascading staircase shortly after, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and armed with a backpack. Upon spotting Fleamont's luggage, he sighed and raised his chin to view the ceiling as if questioning the gods.
"Your mother is giving the house-elves some last-minute instructions," Henry told them, before yelling, "Artemis, it's time to go! What is taking you so long?"
"Just a second, father!" Artemis' voice echoed off the polished floors. She descended only ten minutes later, pulling a trunk behind her.
Henry eyed the trunk wearily. "If the match goes on past two days, we can just ask the house-elves to bring us more clothes and necessities. I don't believe a trunk is needed, Artemis. A backpack ought to be enough."
"I have that too." Artemis turned to the side, showing him the backpack she carried as well.
"And I thought it would be your brother I would have to convince to reduce the luggage of hair products," Henry muttered under his breath, before sighing, and raking his fingers through his dark hair. Adjusting the glasses on the crook of his nose, he inquired to his daughter, "Are you sure you need so much?"
"Yes, of course, dad. I wouldn't carry anything with me unless it was very necessary—I'm not Fleamont."
"Hey!" Fleamont pouted, leaning against one of his three trunks. "That was unwarranted."
Artemis stuck out her tongue and blew him a raspberry.
"Darling, what even is in there?" Henry brought the attention back to the matter on hand before another sibling war broke out.
"Very necessary things," Artemis reiterated. "My backpack has my clothes and toothbrush."
"And the trunk?"
"Paints and brushes."
"Oh, okay— Wait, what?" Henry doubled back on her. "Why... Why would you be needing art supplies during a Quidditch game?"
"I heard a Snitch once took six months to catch." Artemis shrugged her shoulders. "I might need things to do when I'm bored."
"Yes, but you're not going to be staying there for six months. Your school is starting soon, remember?"
Artemis pulled a brooding face. "You're no fun," she grumbled.
Henry gasped, placing a hand on his chest. "Take that back! I'm plenty of fun! Aren't I, boys?" He turned to Charlus and Fleamont, both of whom were avoiding his eyes and whistling absently. Henry glimpsed at Tom hopefully. "Tom?"
