The next day arrived.
In the dining hall that morning, the four house tables were lined with bowls of porridge, plates of pickled herring, towering stacks of toast, and platters of eggs and pork chops.
Looking up, the enchanted ceiling showed a cloudy gray sky—perfectly mirroring the mood of a few students.
On a normal day, the sight of such a lavish breakfast would have had Goyle and Crabbe looking like they hadn’t eaten in centuries, lunging forward to dig in with gusto.
That was the kind of dedication expected from a true foodie.
But today, they sat slumped like a pair of dried-out salted fish—completely drained of energy, barely reacting to the feast in front of them.
It wasn’t until Draco shot them a glance that they flinched and finally started digging into their food.
Watching their sluggish movements, Pansy couldn’t help but giggle to herself. Clearly, yesterday’s first round of after-school tutoring had been pure torture for them...
Unlike Goyle and Crabbe, who had been forced to sacrifice their rest time to study magic, the other party involved in the brawl—Ron Weasley—seemed entirely unaffected in his daily routine.
He still ate when he wanted and played when he pleased.
In fact, thanks to his glib tongue and shamelessness, Ron had become the center of attention in Gryffindor House within just a single day.
Yesterday, in the common room, he had gone all out bragging about his supposed bravery and how he’d felt in the heat of the moment.
In short, Ron completely twisted the story for the younger, clueless Gryffindors, feeding them a version of events that painted him as the hero.
According to him, he had stood tall against threats, faced danger without fear, and protected Neville like a noble champion—casting himself as some kind of brave warrior...
...
In the dining hall...
At the Gryffindor table.
As always, Gryffindor was the noisiest bunch of the lot.
Right then, Ron Weasley was surrounded by a group of eager young lions, basking in attention as he enthusiastically spun his embellished tale—completely ignoring Neville Longbottom, who had also been part of the incident.
Hermione frowned, set down her knife and fork, and finally tore her gaze away from Ron, who was still dramatically recounting his so-called “dragon-slaying” adventure.
“Has he been going on like this since yesterday?”
As someone who knew what really happened during the fight, Hermione turned to Harry with a look of disbelief.
She had gone straight back to her dormitory after they parted ways, so she hadn’t seen any of this.
Ron’s antics had nothing to do with her personally, but Hermione couldn’t stand how blatantly he was lying. Everything he said was a complete distortion of the truth...
“I already talked to Ron about it, but it didn’t help,” Harry replied with a helpless smile.
He knew his friend well—whenever Ron saw a chance to show off, he never passed it up.
And Harry had a vague idea of why Ron was doing it, too.
Hermione’s frown deepened.
“I don’t get it. Why tell a lie that’s so easy to see through? Didn’t Neville say anything?”
There had been plenty of witnesses when it all went down, not to mention Goyle and Crabbe, who were the ones throwing punches. Any one of them could’ve stepped up and exposed Ron’s lie.
That’s why Hermione, clearly seeing how things were spiraling, urged Harry to stop Ron from spreading nonsense.
As for Neville?
Hermione seemed to have forgotten how timid he could be.
“If Ron knew what you really thought about all this...”
“Hm? Harry, what did you just say?”
Harry quickly looked away from her questioning stare and waved his hand awkwardly.
“Never mind that. Actually, I’ve got something important to tell you both.”
Whether it was to change the subject or because he truly remembered something, Harry’s expression suddenly turned serious.
His abrupt shift caught Hermione off guard. She blinked in surprise.
“Something important? What is it?”
“Actually... I just remembered where I’ve seen the name Flamel before.”
“Really?”
“Look here.”
“Wait... isn’t this Dumbledore’s wizard card?—Huh?!”
Hermione took the card Harry handed over, eyes wide. She looked up at him in shock as he gave a small nod.
She never expected to find the answer she’d been searching for on such a tiny card.
Just as Hermione was about to rush off to the library to dig deeper into Nicolas Flamel, the dining hall hit its usual morning peak...
...
Right when Ron was in the middle of his dramatic retelling, it was time for the daily owl post.
Sure enough, the air filled with the flutter of wings a second later.
Hundreds of owls swooped into the hall in perfect sync, circling above students’ heads and dropping letters and parcels onto the chattering crowds. Some even casually helped themselves to food from the tables.
No one found it surprising—it was a familiar routine. In fact, some students even started feeding the owls as if it were part of the fun.
Then, a large, scruffy gray owl crash-landed right into Ron’s plate, splattering food and feathers all over him.
That’s when everyone turned to look—not because of Ron’s messy state, but because of the glaring red envelope that had landed on the table.
Draco, of course, noticed the commotion on the Gryffindor side.
That bright red color was impossible to miss.
“A Howler?”
He watched as Ron, visibly shaking, picked up the Howler, reluctant to open it.
Students from not only Slytherin but all the houses were now watching with interest, eyes fixed on Ron Weasley’s now pale and flushed face.
Howlers were enchanted letters that transmitted pure rage to their recipients.
Ron’s parents had probably received word about the fight and decided to discipline him the loudest way possible.
Still, Draco couldn’t help but wonder—had someone exaggerated the situation when reporting it to the Weasleys? Because honestly, if anyone should’ve been blamed, it was Goyle and the others who had started the whole mess. Ron and his friends were more like the victims.
So then, which Weasley had stirred the pot?