Hermione didn't say a word to Harold for the rest of Charms class. She sat in silence, clearly sulking.
Harold didn't really get why she was mad, but whatever—class was almost over anyway.
Next came Transfiguration. To avoid another awkward pairing, Harold deliberately chose a seat behind and slightly to the right of Hermione. That way, even if they were asked to partner up again, they wouldn't be paired.
"Nice one," Ron suddenly turned and gave Harold a thumbs-up.
"For earlier. In Charms," Ron said in a low voice. "Hermione Granger is always acting so smug, thinking she's better than everyone else. She even said Harry shouldn't be on the Quidditch team because he broke school rules!"
Ron kept his voice low, but the classroom wasn't that big, and it was clear Hermione heard. Her face darkened considerably.
"Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Weasley. I almost forgot Mr. Potter did break the rules," came a sharp voice from nearby.
They all jumped. Professor McGonagall was standing right behind them, lips pressed into a thin line.
Ron whipped around, face going pale.
"Joining the team was my decision," McGonagall said coolly. "But that does not cancel out the punishment for breaking school rules." She turned to Harry. "Disturbing class, flying unsupervised—detention. Wednesday at eight o'clock. My office. You and Mr. Malfoy both."
"Yes, Professor," Harry muttered, face like stone.
"When did she even get here?" Ron looked like he'd seen a ghost.
"No idea," Harold said. "Cats don't make noise when they walk. Apparently, neither does Professor McGonagall."
"I'll remember that…" Harry mumbled, glaring at Ron. "Why did you have to say anything?"
Ron flushed bright red, nearly the same color as his hair. "I… I don't know…"
"Forget it." Harry sighed. "Detention isn't so bad. But with Malfoy? That's a nightmare."
Ron flushed even harder.
"There's something I should clarify," Harold said suddenly, as if remembering something. "I wasn't trying to start anything with Hermione in Charms. If she wants to help Neville, that's great. Why would I be against that?"
Ron looked at him like he'd just been betrayed.
"But you two… clearly had a fight! She's not even talking to you!"
"We just have different ideas," Harold shrugged. "Most Muggle-born students are like that. They've only just started learning magic—it'll take a few years for things to click."
"All right, enough," Harry cut in.
He had originally wanted to defend Hermione—after all, she had been the only one patient enough to help Neville—but now, for some reason, he found himself unable to speak up.
Probably because he had somehow become the only person actually punished from the whole thing.
He sighed. Maybe he should have just slapped a hand over Ron's mouth earlier.
The rest of Transfiguration class had a strange vibe.
Harry and Ron were moody, Hermione was oddly distracted, head down the whole time. She even accidentally stabbed two beetles to death while trying to transfigure them—which was so unlike her.
Harold watched from the side, mildly amused. Were the famous trio about to break up before they'd even formed?
Unlikely. At least, not the boys.
Despite the unexpected detention, Harry didn't seem angry with Ron at all. They stuck together, chatting like always, even convincing themselves it wasn't a total loss—after all, Malfoy also got detention.
Weird logic, but hey—whatever worked for them.
As for Hermione, she bolted the second class was over. She barely spoke during the afternoon lessons, either.
When classes finally ended, the students headed to the Great Hall for the Halloween Eve feast.
The Hall had been decorated to the nines—glowing jack-o'-lanterns floated through the air in all shapes and sizes, filling the room with a magical, festive glow.
Harry forgot about his detention immediately.
Harold, who was walking with the group, suddenly paused at the doors.
"Oh, you guys go ahead. I think I dropped something."
"Huh? What did you drop? Where?" Harry asked.
"Not sure. Probably somewhere on the way here," Harold said casually.
"I'll help you look," Harry offered immediately.
"No need," Harold said, stopping him with a hand. "It's nothing important. You guys go on ahead—I'll have a quick look. If I don't find it, it's no big deal."
Hearing that it wasn't urgent, Harry nodded and followed the others into the Hall.
Harold, meanwhile, turned and slipped down a nearby corridor—where Fred and George were waiting.
"Well?" he asked in a low voice. "Did you get what I asked for?"
"When have we ever let you down?" Fred said solemnly. "Mission accomplished."
"Now, about our fee…" George stepped forward expectantly.
"Here." Harold pulled a handful of silver Sickles from his pocket. "All accounted for."
"Six Sickles exactly," Fred confirmed, then handed over a bulging brown paper bag.
"Pleasure doing business. Be sure to come to us next time you need anything."
"We'll see." Harold winced slightly. "Your delivery fee is outrageous. The stuff I wanted cost three Sickles, and I paid you double."
"Now now, that's not fair," George said, wagging a finger. "If it were a Hogsmeade weekend, we'd have done it for free. But during term? Students aren't allowed to leave school grounds. Only we have the means to reach Hogsmeade."
"We took a big risk here. The price was more than fair."
"Fine," Harold sighed. "Thanks for the trouble."
"Support our shop more and it won't feel like trouble," George grinned. "Repeat customers get discounts." Read complete versıon only at 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⚫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⚫𝔫𝔢𝔱
"If I need anything."
"Oh, you will," Fred said knowingly. "You don't strike us as a 'play by the rules' type."
"I get the feeling we'll have a lot in common down the line."
Harold just shrugged.
"To show our appreciation," Fred added suddenly, "we've got a little gift for you."
He pulled a folded sheet of parchment from his robes.
"A map," George replied.
Harold's heart jumped—parchment, a map—could it be…
"A map of the secret passages on the fourth floor."
…Ah. Not the Marauder's Map then.
Harold exhaled, a little disappointed.
"We drew it ourselves," Fred continued. "If you ever get caught sneaking around up there again, this might help."
"Though, to be fair, Filch knows most of these already."