Ron finally muttered, “Say it. I’m doomed.”
Kent didn’t hesitate before replying, “You’re definitely doomed, Ron,” as if it were a medical diagnosis rather than a joke.
Ron groaned and tightened the tape harder, while nearby students tried very hard not to laugh outright at him.
A few seats down, Draco Malfoy and Mira observed the scene with a quieter kind of attention, Draco’s eyes flicking between Ron’s wand and the growing mess of tape as if assessing structural failure. Mira’s expression was more neutral, though there was a faint trace of amusement she didn’t bother hiding. The noise of the Hall briefly shifted when a small first-year approached the Slytherin table, clutching a camera almost as tall as his confidence. Colin Creevey stepped closer to Mira with eager, bouncing energy, his eyes bright in a way that made him seem permanently on the edge of excitement.
“Hi! You’re Mira Silverthorne, right?” he asked quickly, as though afraid the opportunity might vanish if he paused. Before she could answer, he blurted, “Can I take a picture with you?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, but Mira simply tilted her head slightly and nodded once.
“Alright,” she said calmly, as if it were the most ordinary request in the world.
Colin nearly dropped his camera in relief before carefully positioning it, hands trembling with focused determination as he framed the shot. Mira stood beside him without stiffness, her posture relaxed but composed, while Colin leaned in with the enthusiasm of someone capturing a legendary moment. A brief flash of light snapped across the table, and for a second the noise of the Great Hall felt suspended in amber.
Colin looked down at the photograph emerging with wide-eyed satisfaction, then immediately turned back to Mira. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, clutching the picture like it was priceless.
Mira blinked once and asked, “What are you thanking me for?”
Colin hesitated before answering, his voice softening. “My aunt… she had a damaged magical core last year. It was really bad. But she got cured, and she’s back working as an Auror now.”
The words hung for a moment, and Mira’s gaze shifted slightly, more thoughtful than proud, “I can’t take all the credit,” she replied after a pause. “My parents helped, Isolde—my half-Veela sister—Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, Draco… and some of my familiars, and Myraleth, the Vaelori. They all contributed to the cure.”
Colin’s eyes widened at the name alone. “You met a Vaelori?” he whispered, like it was something out of a restricted library section.
Before Mira could respond further, they heard an owl cry out. Everyone turned to the sound and saw an owl flying in.
Dean Thomas leaned back slightly and asked, “Is that your owl, Ron?”
The owl was flying through the open space above the tables, flying far too low and far too fast. It wobbled mid-air as if it had already lost a battle against gravity and dignity. Then the bird crashed directly into a bowl of potato chips, scattering them everywhere in a greasy explosion of crumbs and feathers. It landed on its back, stunned but still gripping a red envelope in its beak.
Ron stared at it with exhausted resignation. “Bloody bird’s a menace,” he muttered, reaching over to retrieve the letter while the owl remained sprawled like it had given up on life entirely. Then it simply got up and ruffled its feathers like it did nothing wrong and flew off.
Mira and Draco both watched the scene unfold with quiet attention, their focus sharpening the moment they recognized the red wax seal.
The mood at the table shifted immediately as Ron held the envelope up, his expression tightening in dread.
Ron's eyes widened in horror, "Oh no."
Seamus Finnigan pointed excitedly from down the table, practically bouncing in his seat. “Look, everyone! Weasley’s got himself a Howler!” he announced, drawing attention like a spark in dry grass. Ron’s shoulders stiffened as multiple heads turned toward him, the attention only making the moment worse.
Neville Longbottom leaned forward quickly and said, “Just open it, Ron—trust me. You don’t want to ignore it. Last time I did that with one from my gran... it was horrible.”
That final word carried enough weight to seal Ron’s fate. With visibly shaking hands, he broke the seal and opened the letter.
The Howler erupted instantly, the entire Hall seeming to shrink as the voice of Molly Weasley thundered across the enchanted ceiling. “RONALD WEASLEY!” it bellowed, the sound sharp enough to silence nearby conversations mid-sentence which caused Ron to drop it on the table.
The letter folded and reshaped itself into a floating mouth, its expression furious beyond reason. “HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER’S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!” Ron flinched as the Howler floated closer to his face, “YOU ALMOST GOT HARRY KILLED!"
At the mention of Harry Potter, several heads turned toward him instinctively, while Harry sank slightly in his seat. The Hall remained utterly silent except for the echo of Molly’s voice, which seemed determined to occupy every corner of the room.
"IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!”
The final sentence echoed throughout the hall.
Several students actually flinched.
The threat carried unmistakable maternal power.
The kind that transcended magical ability entirely.
Ron nodding rapidly as though agreement might soften the blow.
Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the tone of the Howler shifted. “Oh—” it added, now directed elsewhere with a strange sweetness. “And Ginny dear, congratulations for making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.”
Ginny Weasley froze, looking mortified despite the praise.
“Also, Kent, your parents are happy you made it into Gryffindor.”
Kent stiffened slightly, exchanging a quick glance with Ron.
“Rose, your mom is very happy you made it into Ravenclaw,” the Howler continued, its tone almost cheerful now as it drifted across the table toward them.
Kent exhaled in relief while Rose gave a small, awkward wave, clearly not used to being publicly congratulated in front of the entire school.
Then it remembered Ron existed.
The giant paper mouth slowly turned.
Every eye followed.
Ron stared back.
The Howler stared at Ron.
A moment of silence passed.
Then—
PPPPPPBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTT!
The loudest raspberry imaginable echoed across the Great Hall.
The hall exploded.
Students doubled over laughing.
Fred and George collapsed against each other.
Ginny nearly fell off her bench.
Harry buried his face in his hands.
Neville was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
Even Hermione couldn't suppress a smile.
At the Slytherin table, Blaise nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.
Theo abandoned all attempts at dignity.
Daphne covered her mouth.
Draco openly laughed.
Mira was laughing too.
Not at Ron's embarrassment.
At the sheer theatrical brilliance of it.
The Howler, apparently satisfied with its final statement, folded itself neatly.
Then tore itself into dozens of tiny scraps.
The pieces fluttered harmlessly onto the table.
Silence followed.
Briefly.
Then conversations erupted throughout the hall.
Everyone had opinions.
Everyone had favorite parts.
Most agreed the raspberry had been the highlight.
Ron dropped his forehead onto the table.
Harry patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
Across the hall, Draco wiped tears from his eyes.
"I take back what I said yesterday."
Mira glanced at him.
"What?"
Draco grinned.
"The Howler was definitely the best punishment."
Mira laughed.
Nearby, Snape calmly continued eating breakfast while pretending not to notice the lingering laughter filling the Great Hall. Yet somewhere beneath his carefully maintained composure, he couldn't deny a simple truth. Molly Weasley had delivered a more effective reprimand in two minutes than most detentions could accomplish in a month. And judging by Ron's expression, the lesson would not be forgotten anytime soon.
ns216.73.216.233da2
and then Add to home screen.