Hogwarts: A History [Harry Potter Fanfiction]

Chapter 13 - Hogsmeade: Part Deux

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A loud slop filled the trophy room as Hannah let the head of the mop she was holding fall to the dirty floor leaving a large and soapy puddle to spill out across her feet. She stretched her arms around her back to loosen her tired limbs. They had been working since the morning and it was already half passed three in the afternoon. She angrily shushed her stomach as it growled in protest to the lack of food it had been receiving. Peter was next to her, on his knees, and polishing a rather large trophy that had been awarded to one Perilious Daiswerk. He sat back on his knees to admire his work, “Blimey, can’t imagine being a muggle and having to do this daily.” He said, wiping a dribble of sweat before it could curve down the side of his face.

Hannah, while having heard him, was too engorged in her mopping to register that she was supposed to reply to his comment. “Getting hungry,” she said after a moment, “wonder when they’ll come and feed us.”

They continued cleaning in silence, scouring and polishing trophy after trophy, the room beginning to glisten ever more as they went. At about four in the afternoon Filch came limping into the Trophy room with a platter of food in his hand. He threw the plate onto one of the trophy shelves saying, “Told me I couldn’t leave you here without feeding you. Miss the good ol’ days. Used to be you’d be down in the dungeon on the rack for the day!” he left, laughing quietly to himself, reminiscing on the wonderful days of torture in Hogwarts.

“Brilliant!” Hannah laughed, jumping down from her perch atop one of the higher levels. She snatched a sandwich from the platter and poured herself a glass of juice, motioning with her hand for Peter to follow suit. He happily got to his feet and grabbed a sandwich for himself. They ate in a comfortable silence, not feeling the need to say anything to one another. For a while it stayed this way; the only sound that could be heard was the rough chewing and swallowing of the two and the occasional gulp of drink.

“So Hannah,” Peter started, examining his feet very carefully.

“So Peter,” She mimicked, flashing him a large smile before grabbing her sandwich in her teeth and ripping a large piece off. When Peter didn’t say anything she continued, “Potter owes us big time for skiving off on us like he did.”

Peter smiled lightly and watched Hannah for a moment. He finally began to speak, very quietly, “I’ve been mulling it over in my head for some time and I figure that now is as best a time as ever. And so I was wondering, if you’d have it, that maybe we-”

The door to the trophy room swung open and Professor McGonagall appeared, taking in the Trophy Room as she entered. “Very nicely done, Mr. Pettigrew, Ms. Kelly. Perhaps this will teach you the values of owning a wand and the consequences that come when one abuses those privileges.” McGonagall held out her hand, revealing both Hannah and Peter’s wands.

“Right Professor, we’ve definitely learned our lesson; it won’t be happening again,” Hannah flashed a grin before swiftly grabbing her wand from McGonagall and running out of the Trophy Room. Peter sighed internally before he too grabbed his wand and bid her farewell. His courage was gone now; perhaps he’d try again at another time, but for now he didn’t think he could stomach the idea.

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When the sun sets in Hogsmeade it is incomparable to any other sunset in the world. The tips of the warm cottages and shops catch the tepid orange sun as it cascades its decadence onto the villagers who respond with a fire in each home, letting tuffs of smoke drift lazily out of the tops of each building. The descending stars bathe their shoppers in one last glimpse of the early spring days as it retreats into the earth, beckoning its calm sister, which seems stark in resemblance yet decidedly more majestic, to take its place.