𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐞 | ʜ. ᴊ. ᴘ. [ hiatus ]

• 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐧 •

❾¾ ⌁☍ ♪ ‹ 𝓶𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓬𝓮 › ♪ ☍⌁¾❾

The next day, however, Harry barely grinned once. Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long House tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray).

Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Mal, who reads her Little Women novel while sipping warm milk and Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug.

There was a slight stiffness in the way Hermione said "Morning," which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived not with Mal smiling as usual and greeting them.

"Mail's due any minute," Neville Longbottom was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry had ever met. " - I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."

Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd.

A big, lumpy package bounced off
Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into
Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"Errol!"

"Oh Godric," Mal gasped, put away her plate, put Errol in front of her then checked the owl's condition.

"Oh, no -" Ron gasped.

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

"He's out of gas, Ron," Mal told Ron.

"It's not that - it's that."

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode even Mal widened her eyes as her right hand gently stroked Errol's gray wings.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"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."

Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" he said.

"You'll know the answer," Mal pursed her lips inward, giving Ron a wary look. "In a moment."

"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 stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry understand what Mal was said. He thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"