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The gentle overnight drizzle finally stopped by morning. The enchanted ceiling mirrored a clear, brilliant blue sky outside. Students trickled into the Great Hall, buzzing with excitement for the upcoming weekend. At the High Table, Anthony absently poked at his mashed potatoes with a fork.
One moment, he had been fuming with Professor Burbage about Muggle-born students' exam scores being sabotaged. The next, he was told he was now a Silencer, then Umbridge was gone, and then Dumbledore suggested he go hunt Voldemort in Albania. It all happened too fast. He hadn't even figured out how to pack.
He'd bring his pets, of course. But maybe he'd need that magical tent… Not that he couldn't stomach sleeping rough. But a proper bed would help him remember where he was if he woke up in a panic. Honestly, just the thought of waking up amongst branches and dirt gave him a deeply unpleasant feeling. It felt like digging up a grave all over again.
"You alright, Henry?" Professor Sprout asked, leaning past him for some fried bacon.
"Me?" Anthony snapped back to the present. "Fine, thank you, Pomona."
"Don't tell me you're worrying about Quidditch too," Professor Sprout said.
"Quidditch?"
"The Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match is tomorrow!" Professor Sprout said, surprised. "Didn't you know? Both Gryffindor and Slytherin have won two matches so far. But if Gryffindor defeats Ravenclaw tomorrow, they take the Cup. That's right, isn't it, Minerva?"
"Perfectly correct. And I am not worrying. Not anymore, at least." Professor McGonagall's voice rose slightly. "Severus—Oh, he's not here."
Professor Sprout chuckled. "I remember you told Severus that being smug and being foolish were practically the same thing before the Cup is decided."
"I merely pointed out," Professor McGonagall said loftily, "that Dolores left at a most convenient time, ensuring both of Gryffindor's Beaters would be on the pitch… provided they don't land themselves in detention again."
Her voice dropped for the last part, her gaze sharp as a blade as it fixed on the two redheads whispering together at the Gryffindor table. Wood gave them both a pat on the shoulder, muttering something while shooting glances at Madam Hooch on the High Table. Suddenly, he seemed to notice the combined stare from Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Anthony. He met McGonagall's eyes, hesitated, then finally sank back into his seat with a confused, resigned look. He started buttering his bread in silence.
…
The next morning vanished in a blur: sorting through belongings, packing the basics, visiting Mr. Ollivander in Diagon Alley for a wand polish, buying some Gillyweed from Borage at the apothecary just in case, and then heading to Dervish and Banges in Hogsmeade to check out tents and sleeping bag prices.
By eleven o'clock, he walked out of the shop with a new, incredibly comfortable, waterproof, windproof sleeping bag.
He'd gotten it for a five percent discount. As he'd browsed a particular aisle, a dozen thin, antenna-like objects wedged between shelves suddenly buzzed to life. A few other odd contraptions lit up with red light and started spinning. The shopkeeper had grumbled as he shoved the expensive devices onto a high shelf ("Too sensitive, and a bit old, they are!"), apologizing to the staring customers ("It's not Dark Magic, of course! The other Secrecy Sensors and Sneakoscopes would've reacted too! Look, this is the latest model, passed all the magical tests, used by the Hit Wizards themselves!"). Then one customer recognized Anthony as a Hogwarts professor. The shopkeeper's tone instantly shifted to cheerful and insistent. He had to offer a discount on anything Anthony fancied, to make up for the fright.
After checking everything off his list, he grabbed lunch at a nearby café before heading back to Hogwarts. He'd just reached the lawns when a large, noisy crowd streamed back from the Quidditch pitch. A scarlet banner with a roaring golden lion floated high above them, glittering in the sun.
Suddenly, Anthony felt his shoulder lighten as a large hand took the backpack containing the Gillyweed, sleeping bag, and a bottle of white wine.
"Henry! Where've you been?"
Anthony turned, smiling. "Afternoon, Hagrid."
"Where were you?" Hagrid beamed down at him. "You missed the best match of the year! Harry caught the Snitch hanging upside-down from his broom! And that figure-eight he flew in the middle—brilliant! Perfect for dodging the Bludgers. Oh, and the twins! Bloody marvelous—they never let those Bludgers have a moment's peace!"
"Sounds good."
"Good? Nope. Brilliant! Gryffindor won the Cup!" Hagrid boomed happily. "Blimey, there's Harry!"
Harry was at the castle entrance, still in his Quidditch robes, surrounded by cheering students. Someone said something, and the crowd parted briefly, revealing Wood beside Harry. Wood's face was flushed with excitement, his eyes shining like he was drunk. He kept alternating between slapping Harry on the back and ruffling his already messy hair. The rest of the Gryffindor team closed in. Filch watched the whole scene from beside the oak doors, his expression dark.
Colin Creevey darted to the front, camera raised— "Gryffindor!" Wood yelled. "GRYFFINDOR!" the crowd echoed. FLASH. "We did it!" Wood roared. "WE DID IT!" FLASH. "Lads, ladies, after all these days, all that work finally paid off—" "Oh, shut it!" the twins shouted, shoving past Wood to throw their arms around Harry. FLASH. Angelina had an arm around Katie's shoulders, using her broomstick to poke the twins in the back, a huge grin on her face.
"That should be a good photograph," a voice said beside Anthony.
Anthony turned. "Minerva?"
"Albus would like a word in his office when you have a moment. But not now. I need to fetch Mr. Potter first." Professor McGonagall stood with her arms crossed, watching the Gryffindor celebration with deep satisfaction.
"Harry? Why?" Hagrid asked.
McGonagall glanced at him, hesitating. "Sirius is here."
"Sirius!" Hagrid boomed.
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