The Great Hall was packed, students crammed onto the benches, voices echoing off the high stone walls. Golden plates overflowed with food, and the smell of roast beef and fresh bread filled the air. But at the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't eating much. Their heads were still back in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Moody's lesson had been different. Last year, Professor Lupin had given them knowledge,how to recognize threats, how to handle magical creatures, how to think through a problem. But Moody? Moody wasn't interested in thinking. He wanted them to act. He wanted to see what they did when they weren't given time to think at all.
The stinging hexes still burned, even though Madam Pomfrey's remedies had dulled the worst of it. Some students had taken more hits than others,Seamus was rubbing his shoulder, and Neville looked like he wasn't sure if he should be impressed or terrified. A few Slytherins, sitting further down the table, were muttering under their breath, throwing glares at the Gryffindors like this was somehow their fault. Malfoy, for once, wasn't saying much.
Ron flexed his arm, still wincing. "That wasn't a lesson. That was an ambush."
Hermione, who had barely touched her food, was lost in thought. "It was… unusual," she admitted. "But it made sense, in a way. It wasn't just about spells. It was about instincts. He wanted to see if we could react before we even realized what was happening."
Harry nodded. Moody had been watching them the entire time, studying them as much as teaching. And he wasn't testing their spellwork. He was testing them.
Across the table, Fred and George leaned in, clearly eavesdropping. "Ah, so you've had your first taste of Mad-Eye," George said, grinning.
Fred grabbed a roll and bit into it. "What'd he do? Hit you with a couple of hexes? Make you duel?"
Ron gawked at him. "A couple? He spent an hour throwing spells at us just to see if we'd break!"
Fred smirked. "And they say fourth-years have it easy."
Ron stared. "Easy?"
George laughed. "You think that was bad? Our lessons are worse."
"Way worse," Fred agreed. "Moody's got a real soft spot for the upper years. Last week, he put us through a maze. A bloody maze. Spells flying everywhere, no idea what's coming next. Said it was 'realistic.'"
George nodded. "And the week before that, he made us disarm him."
Harry frowned. "That doesn't sound too bad."
Fred barked a laugh. "Yeah? Try disarming a trained Auror who fights dirty."
George shuddered. "I still have bruises."
Ron slumped back against the bench. "Brilliant. So it gets worse."
Fred clapped him on the back. "Oh, much worse."
The Great Hall was as loud as ever, but as the Gryffindors settled into lunch, the excitement over Moody's lesson started fading into background chatter. But just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were starting to relax, another conversation picked up around them.
It started at the far end of the table, but soon enough, more students were turning their heads. A few Ravenclaws were glancing over. Even some Hufflepuffs seemed to be listening in.
Quidditch.
And not just the matches,the pitch itself.
"You're joking," Katie Bell said, pushing her plate aside. "They're actually shutting down the pitch?"
Alicia Spinnet nodded, arms crossed. "McGonagall just told us. Full stop. No training, no flying, nothing."
"That's ridiculous," Angelina Johnson said. "We knew the matches were canceled, but no one said anything about stopping practice."
Fred and George had been grinning before, still amused by Ron's suffering, but at this, they both scowled.
"They can't do that," Fred said.
"Well, they can," George corrected. "And they did."
Ron, who had been half-listening while stuffing his face, stopped mid-bite. "Wait, so we can't even use the pitch at all?"
"Nope," Alicia said, looking just as annoyed as the others. "They're using it for the Tournament, setting things up for the tasks. Apparently, they need time to," She waved her hands vaguely. "I don't know. Do whatever the hell they're doing."
"They don't need all year to set up," Katie argued. "They could let us fly when nothing's happening."
Ginny, who had been quiet up until now, frowned. "It's not just us, though, is it? No one gets to use it. Not Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff, not even Slytherin."
"Yeah, but that doesn't make it fair," Angelina shot back. "We're supposed to be training for next year! Do they expect us to just sit around and lose all our practice?"
There were murmurs of agreement from the Gryffindor team, and from a few other students as well. Even some of the Ravenclaws at the next table looked annoyed.
Harry hadn't said anything yet, but he could feel the frustration building inside him too. Flying wasn't just about Quidditch. It was freedom. It was something that made Hogwarts feel like home. The idea of not being able to fly at all, not even for fun, didn't sit right.
"So what do we do?" Katie asked.
"Petition?" Alicia suggested. "Maybe if enough students complain,"
Fred snorted. "Yeah, because McGonagall's really going to change her mind because we whine about it."
"She might," George said, then shrugged. "Or she'll just tell us to suck it up and focus on our studies."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Ron sighed, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. "We're doomed."
The frustration over Quidditch carried through the rest of lunch, but there wasn't much anyone could do. The pitch was off-limits, and that was that. Even Fred and George, who were usually the first to scheme up some kind of workaround, had nothing. Eventually, people gave up complaining and just ate.
Harry pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'm heading to the library."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "What for? We don't have anything due, do we?"
Harry shook his head. "No, I just… I figured I should finally start working on breaking that cipher. The books from Sirius."
Hermione's face lit up with interest. "Oh! That's a good idea. It might take a while to even figure out the structure."
"Yeah," Harry said, adjusting his bag. "No point putting it off any longer."
Ron smirked. "Well, good luck with that. See you later in Divination."
Hermione tucked a loose curl behind her ear as she stacked her notes. "I've got Ancient Runes. It's getting harder, but I actually really like it."
Harry smiled. "Well, have fun with that. See you both later."
He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way toward the doors, weaving through the crowded Great Hall. The noise of lunchtime chatter faded behind him as he stepped out into the quieter corridors, making his way up toward the library.
The library was quiet after lunch, the way it always was. Most students were either still in the Great Hall or off enjoying their free period. The only ones here were the usual Ravenclaws, buried in books, and a few Hufflepuffs trying to get a head start on homework.
Harry found a table near the back, dropped his bag onto the chair, and pulled out the books from Sirius.
"Broken Body." "Broken Mind."
He flipped one open.
Yeah. Still nonsense.
The words shifted as he looked at them, twisting and rearranging like they were alive. It wasn't a normal cipher. Even just staring at the page too long made his head hurt.
Harry frowned. He had no clue where to start. He needed help.
With a sigh, he shut the book and stood up, making his way to the towering shelves at the front of the library.
Madam Pince was there, sorting a pile of books with the same look of sharp concentration she always had, like any moment someone might try to deface them.
Harry hesitated. She wasn't exactly known for being helpful. But she did know more about books than anyone else.
Taking a breath, he stepped forward. "Er,Madam Pince?"
She looked up immediately, her eyes locking onto him like he'd been caught sneaking chocolate into the Restricted Section.
"What?"
Harry shifted the book in his hands. "I was wondering if you had anything on ciphers."
She looked down to book he was holding, and before Harry could react, she held out her hand. "May I?"
Harry hesitated, but then handed it over.
She flipped it open, scanning the page. Her expression didn't change at first. Then, slowly, the corners of her mouth tugged up in something that might've been a smile.
She closed the book and handed it back. "You'll need to learn Arithmancy first."
Harry blinked. "Wait,what?"
She turned and started toward the shelves, muttering to herself as she ran a finger along the spines.
A second later, she pulled out a thick book and shoved it into his hands.
"Introduction to Arithmantic Theory."
Harry stared at it, then back at her. "Hold on,why do I need Arithmancy?"
She crossed her arms. "That book isn't written in an ordinary cipher. It's encoded using Arithmantic principles,numerical encryption, magical sequencing. If you don't understand Arithmancy, you won't crack it."
Harry frowned. "So I have to learn an entire subject just to read them?"
Madam Pince actually looked amused. "Yes."
Then, without another word, she turned back to her work, leaving Harry standing there, still holding the books.
Brilliant.
With a sigh, he trudged back to his table and cracked open the Arithmancy book.
The first few pages weren't too bad. It talked about magical numbers, how they influenced spells, how old wizards used numerology. But then it got into equations and sequences that made his head ache.
He rubbed his temples. "Great. Should've paid more attention in Muggle maths."
Harry sighed and flipped back to the first page of Introduction to Arithmantic Theory, determined to make sense of it.
Chapter One: The Magical Properties of Numbers
"Magic is built upon patterns. Words shape it, wands direct it, but numbers define its structure. Each number carries magical significance, influencing spells, enchantments, and even prophecy. By understanding these patterns, a wizard may harness magic in its purest form,through calculation, rather than chance."
Harry frowned. That sounded… complicated. He skipped ahead.
"The foundation of Arithmancy is the numerical assignment of letters, a practice known as numerical substitution. This system, created by early magical scholars, allows wizards to encode messages, strengthen spells, and analyze magical texts."
That was more like it. Harry grabbed a scrap of parchment and copied down the chart from the book:
Numerical Substitution System:
A = 1, B = 2, C = 3, D = 4, E = 5, F = 6… all the way to Z = 26.
Simple enough. It was just the alphabet with numbers.
Then the book took it a step further.
"In traditional Arithmantic ciphers, words are converted into numbers, and these numbers can then be rearranged or manipulated to conceal their original meaning. For example, the word 'MAGIC' would be encoded as follows:"
M = 13
A = 1
G = 7
I = 9
C = 3
"This sequence, 13-1-7-9-3, can then be shifted, reversed, or mathematically altered to create more complex encryptions."
Harry rubbed his chin. The letters turned into numbers, and then those numbers could be scrambled into something harder to crack.
He turned back to Broken Mind and scanned the first line again. The letters still danced across the page, shifting and rearranging, but now he had something to work with.
He copied down the first few words onto his parchment, carefully matching each letter with its corresponding number. It took longer than he expected,his quill scratched loudly against the quiet hum of the library,but eventually, he had a string of numbers written out. He focused only on the first word though.
19 - 5 - 5 - 11 - 5 - 18
Harry frowned.
He flipped back to Introduction to Arithmantic Theory and skimmed ahead.
"The first step in decoding an Arithmantic encryption is recognizing the pattern used in its transformation. Many ciphers rely on number shifts,simple additions or subtractions to disguise the original values. For example, the phrase 'HELP' encoded with a +2 shift would read:"
H → J (8+2=10)
E → G (5+2=7)
L → N (12+2=14)
P → R (16+2=18)
"Reversing this process would allow a wizard to uncover the original message."
He stared down at his numbers. 19 - 5 - 5 - 11 - 5 - 18. What if these had been shifted like in the example? Maybe if he subtracted a number…
He grabbed another piece of parchment and wrote:
19 - 5 - 5 - 11 - 5 - 18 (original numbers)
17 - 3 - 3 - 9 - 3 - 16 (subtracting 2)
Matching them back to the alphabet…
Q - C - C - I - C - P
Nothing.
Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the table. "This is impossible."
A few nearby Ravenclaws turned to glare at him.
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. It wasn't that this was hard, it was just slow. The book was full of techniques, but figuring out which one had been used on Broken Mind was going to take forever.
Still, he couldn't stop now.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up his quill and kept going. If this book really held something important, then he was going to break it.
Even if it took all year.
After four straight hours of number crunching, shifting sequences, and flipping through pages, Harry had managed to translate exactly one sentence.
"To the seeker of knowledge, the mind is the most fragile thing to break."
He let out a breathless laugh. No kidding. His own mind felt like it was hanging on by a thread.
He leaned back, stretching out his stiff fingers. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed, but now the library was dimmer, the golden light from the windows fading as the afternoon slipped toward evening.
He checked his watch.
Five minutes until Divination.
Harry groaned. He'd almost rather stay here and keep smashing his head against numbers than sit through another one of Trelawney's ridiculous predictions.
But rules were rules.
With a sigh, he shoved his notes into his bag, tucked both books away, and stood up, rolling his stiff shoulders. He might've only cracked one sentence, but it was progress.
And next time, he'd go further.
He had to.
He trudged up the winding stairs to the North Tower, the air growing warmer the closer he got to the trapdoor.
Ron was already climbing up ahead of him. "You look awful," he muttered as Harry hauled himself through the trapdoor.
"Feel worse," Harry grumbled.
Trelawney's classroom was just as stuffy and dim as ever. Overhead, dozens of teacups rattled softly on their shelves, and the usual haze of perfumed smoke curled through the air.
Trelawney herself sat in her oversized armchair, her shawls draped dramatically around her. She peered at them through her enormous glasses, her voice misty as ever. "Ah, my dear children… The fates have gathered you here once more…"
Ron shot Harry a look. Here we go.
The class settled onto the squashy armchairs and poufs, a few students still yawning from lunch. Parvati and Lavender were whispering excitedly, flipping through Unfogging the Future like it was the most thrilling book ever written. Dean and Seamus were quietly making bets on who would get the worst prediction today.
Trelawney raised a delicate hand. "Today, we shall peer beyond the veil of the present… into the mists of the future… through the most ancient and powerful of all mystical arts… the Tarot."
There was a collective groan from the back of the room.
Harry knew he was going to snap eventually. It was only the second lesson of the year, and he was already done with it.
He had no clue how he managed to sit through the entire class. His brain was still tangled up with numbers, shifting sequences, and ciphers. Every time Trelawney droned on about the mists of fate or the ever-turning wheel of destiny, all Harry could think about was number shifts and substitution patterns.
By the time the lesson finally ended, he barely heard Trelawney's parting words. He grabbed his bag, muttered something to Ron about meeting him in the common room later, and made a beeline for the door.
Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he'd crack more of that book.
The Gryffindor common room was warm and buzzing with life,laughter, the crackle of the fire, the occasional boom from a game of Exploding Snap.
Harry slumped back in an armchair, staring blankly at the ceiling. His brain felt fried. Hours of breaking his head over Arithmancy, Moody's lessons still rattling around in his skull, and now Divination on top of it all.
Sirius would've had a field day. James Potter's son, voluntarily spending hours in the library? Tragic.
Harry smirked to himself. Yeah, well. Maybe he was losing it.
And then,
"Oh, brilliant! Testing your latest disaster on first-years now?"
Hermione's voice cut through the noise, sharp and furious.
Harry turned his head just in time to see Fred and George looking very pleased with themselves, while two first-years held something purple and smoking slightly.
Well. This was about to be entertaining.
Hermione had her hands on her hips, her foot tapping like she was about to explode. The Weasley twins, in contrast, looked immensely pleased with themselves.
"This is completely irresponsible," Hermione snapped, jabbing a finger at the two terrified first-years clutching what looked like half-melted purple toffees. "They're eleven! What if something went wrong? What if,"
Fred slung an arm around one of the kids. "Relax, Hermione. We had a control group."
George grinned. "And look, no permanent damage!"
The first-years didn't look reassured. One of them,the shorter one, with wide eyes,opened his mouth, and a bubble the size of a Quaffle floated out instead of words.
Hermione lost it.
"OH,FOR,MERLIN'S SAKE! You can't just go experimenting on random students!"
Fred tsked. "It's not random. We carefully select our volunteers."
George nodded solemnly. "Rigorous screening process. Only the bravest make the cut."
"You bribed them with chocolate!" Hermione practically screeched.
The shorter first-year, still looking mildly horrified, gave a hesitant thumbs-up.
Harry, watching from his armchair, bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He was way too tired to get in the middle of this.
Ron, however, was not. "Look, Hermione, it's not that bad,"
She rounded on him so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. "Not that bad?! Ron, their tongues could have fallen off!"
George considered that. "Oh, good idea for next time,"
"NO!"
That did it. The entire common room was watching now, students grinning behind their hands, waiting to see if Hermione would actually explode.
Fred sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. We'll stop testing on first-years."
George clapped the nearest kid on the back. "You're free to go, soldier."
The kid opened his mouth to say something. Another bubble popped out.
Hermione looked murderous.
"I'll kill you both," she said, deadly calm.
Fred and George exchanged a glance, nodded, then,
BOLTED.
They were halfway up the boys' staircase before Hermione even moved.
"GET BACK HERE!"
The portrait hole slammed as she took off after them.
There was a stunned silence.
Then Ron sat down next to Harry, grabbed a Chocolate Frog from his pocket, and unwrapped it casually.
"So," he said, popping it in his mouth. "Library was that bad, huh?"
Harry laughed instead of answering, shaking his head. Ron had a way of summing things up in the most ridiculous way possible.
He leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out, and let his eyes wander around the common room. Across the way, Seamus and Dean were bickering over something near the fireplace. Nothing unusual there.
"I'm telling you," Seamus was saying, exasperated, "you can't just make up a dream and expect her to buy it!"
Dean scoffed. "Mate, that's exactly what I did, and she loved it."
Harry perked up. "What, Trelawney?"
Dean turned toward them, grinning. "Oh yeah. Whole thing was nonsense, but I made it sound mystical,all vague and tragic." He threw his hands up dramatically. "'A silver wolf stood at the edge of a great abyss, howling as the stars fell around him. The moon cracked like glass. And then… darkness.'"
Seamus groaned. "I can't believe she ate that up."
"She nearly cried," Dean said smugly. "Said I had 'the soul of a poet touched by the void.'"
Ron let out a wheezing laugh. "Touched by the void? Bloody hell, Dean, you might actually be her favorite now."
Dean smirked. "Wouldn't be hard. She already thinks Harry's cursed."
Harry snorted. "Right, because I needed another person convinced I'm doomed."
Seamus flopped into the chair next to them, looking tired. "I should've made something up. Instead, I told her I dreamed about missing breakfast, and she said it was 'a sign of deep personal loss.'"
Ron wiped a tear from his eye. "Well, to be fair, you do get cranky when you don't eat."
Seamus shot him a look. "Not the point."
Dean plopped down on the arm of the couch. "The point is, she doesn't care what we dream, as long as we make it sound dramatic." He gestured at Harry. "Next time she asks, just tell her you saw a shadowy figure standing in the distance, watching you. Bonus points if you say he whispered your name."
Harry smirked. "Oh yeah, I'll get right on that."
Ron stretched out, kicking his feet onto the table. "Y'know, if we have to suffer through this class, we might as well have fun with it."
Dean grinned. "Exactly what I'm saying."
Seamus shook his head. "You lot are the reason she thinks we have deep, tortured souls."
Ron waggled his eyebrows. "Can't help being mysterious."
Harry laughed again, finally feeling a little lighter after the long, exhausting day. Maybe Divination wasn't completely useless. At least it gave them something to laugh about later.
The morning air was crisp, cool enough that Harry could see his breath if he exhaled hard enough. The sky was a soft, pale blue, streaked with hints of gold where the sun was finally making its way up over the castle. Most students were still inside, dragging themselves through breakfast or squeezing in some last-minute homework before classes. But Harry? He needed air.
The first week of term wasn't even over, and he already felt like he'd done more work than the whole of last year. Between Moody's lessons, Snape's stupid project, his slow battle with the cipher, and everything else, his brain was starting to feel stretched thin. A walk seemed like the best way to clear it.
He made his way toward the lake, kicking at a stray pebble on the path, letting his thoughts wander. It was nice. Just quiet.
Then he spotted a familiar flash of red hair ahead. Ginny, walking toward him from the opposite direction. She was wearing a deep green jumper under her cloak, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and dark boots that looked brand new.
Harry recognized them instantly.
His stomach did something weird,kind of like when you miss a step going downstairs,but he ignored it.
"Morning," he said as they got closer.
Ginny nodded in greeting. "You're up early."
"So are you."
She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep much. Thought I'd take a walk."
Harry hesitated, then nodded toward her jumper. "That, uh… that looks nice. The jumper. And the boots."
Ginny glanced down like she'd forgotten what she was wearing. "Oh. Yeah, they're good. Warm." She gave him a small smile. "Mum was a little dramatic about it, though. Nearly had a fit when we all showed up at King's Cross in new clothes."
Harry huffed a quiet laugh. He could picture it. Mrs. Weasley had been stubborn about accepting anything from him, but in the end, she hadn't won that argument. He hadn't done it to show off,just to help. And if it made things a little easier for them, then that was enough.
"Well," Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Glad you like them."
Ginny hummed, then walked beside him for a moment before speaking again. "Hey… can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, of course."
She hesitated, like she wasn't sure how to say it. "It's about Luna."
That got Harry's attention. He turned to look at her properly. "What about her?"
Ginny chewed the inside of her cheek. "She's not doing great," she admitted. "I don't know what it is, but something's bothering her this year. She won't talk about it, though."
Harry frowned. Luna had always been… well, Luna. Floating around in her own world, never seeming too bothered by what other people thought. It was hard to imagine her rattled by anything.
"You think something happened?" he asked.
"I don't know." Ginny exhaled, frustrated. "I asked, but she just keeps saying she's fine. And she's Luna, so it's hard to tell when she actually means it and when she's just avoiding the question."
Harry nodded, thinking. He hadn't spoken to Luna much since the train ride, but if something was wrong… well, he wasn't about to ignore it.
"I'll figure it out," he promised.
Ginny looked at him for a second, then nodded. "Thanks."
They walked a little longer before heading back inside, the castle doors creaking open to the sound of students moving toward breakfast.
Harry figured he'd deal with Luna later.
For now, he had Charms.
By the time Harry made it to the Charms classroom, most of the students were already there, chatting while they waited for Flitwick. Hermione was flipping through Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 and Ron was idly twirling his wand, looking around with interest.
Seamus was muttering something to Dean, who looked skeptical. "No, I swear, it'll work this time," Seamus insisted.
"Mate, the last time you said that, we nearly had to evacuate."
Before Seamus could argue, Flitwick hopped onto his usual stack of books at the front of the room, clapping his hands. "Right, everyone! Wands out,today's lesson is about control."
Flitwick waved his wand, and a small chess piece floated up from his desk. It zipped around the room, darting between students before suddenly stopping in midair.
"Locomotor moves objects," Flitwick said. "Immobulus stops them in their tracks." He let the chess piece drop into his hand. "Pair up! One of you will move an object, the other will freeze it. Then switch. Accuracy matters,no freezing your partner by mistake."
Seamus looked entirely too excited about this.
Ron was already pulling his chair closer to Harry's. "Alright, let's see if I'm any better at stopping things than I am at catching them."
Harry smirked. "That bad, huh?"
Ron shrugged. "Let's just say if this were Quidditch, I'd be in the stands."
They pushed their desks together, and Harry raised his wand. "Locomotor!"
His chess piece wobbled, then shot into the air, spinning wildly. Ron tracked it with his wand, narrowing his eyes.
"Immobulus!"
Nothing happened. The piece kept zooming around like it had a mind of its own.
Ron swore under his breath and tried again. The spell hit,sort of. Instead of stopping the piece, it just slowed down like it was flying through pudding.
Harry snorted. "Well, that's… something."
Meanwhile, Hermione and Neville were already working like a well-oiled machine. Hermione's chess piece glided smoothly across the desk, and Neville froze it mid-move, looking shocked that he'd actually pulled it off.
"Great job, Neville!" Hermione said.
Neville grinned.
Then Seamus's Immobulus went wide, missed his chess piece entirely, and froze Neville's sleeve to the desk.
Neville groaned. "Of course."
A few desks away, Malfoy was showing off, levitating two pieces at once just to prove he could. Pansy Parkinson clapped like he'd just won a trophy. "Amazing, Draco!"
Harry ignored him and refocused. He swapped places with Ron, now aiming his wand.
The chess piece wobbled and floated toward him. Harry waited, trying to time it just right.
"Immobulus!"
The piece stopped instantly, hanging in the air like it had been pinned there.
Ron blinked. "Huh. That actually looked easy."
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Just focused on it stopping, not just… blasting it."
Ron frowned, raised his wand, and cast Immobulus again,this time, his own chess piece stopped mid-move. He grinned. "Alright, I think I've got it."
The lesson went on, filled with more mishaps, Dean accidentally freezing his own foot, Lavender shrieking when her chess piece zoomed too close to her face, and Seamus, against all odds, managing to freeze something without setting it on fire.
The moment the bell rang, Ron stretched his arms over his head. "Alright, fifteen minutes. I say we make the most of it."
Seamus grinned. "Exactly what I was thinking. Kitchen?"
Dean looked between them. "You mean the kitchens kitchens?"
"Unless you know a different place to get food around here," Seamus said.
Harry shrugged. He wasn't particularly hungry, but the idea of stretching his legs (and maybe sneaking something sweet) sounded better than sitting around waiting for the next lesson. "Alright, let's go."
The four of them slipped out of the classroom and made their way down the corridor, dodging a group of second-years blocking the hallway.
"D'you think they've still got breakfast leftovers?" Ron asked as they made their way toward the passage behind the fruit bowl painting.
Seamus smirked. "We're not after leftovers, mate. We're after cake."
Ron's eyes lit up. "Oh, good thinking."
Harry reached out and tickled the pear on the painting. It squirmed before turning into a handle, and the portrait swung open. The moment they stepped inside, the warm, buttery smell of fresh pastries hit them.
A tiny elf in a tea towel practically skidded to a stop in front of them. "Sirs are hungry?"
Seamus grinned. "Starving."
Within seconds, plates of sweet cake, muffins, and something covered in chocolate were shoved into their hands. Ron grabbed a piece of treacle tart, looking like he'd been reunited with an old friend.
"Now this is a proper break," he mumbled through a mouthful.
Harry snorted, already halfway through a piece of sponge cake.
They barely had time to enjoy it before the bell rang again.
Dean checked his watch. "Reckon Flitwick'll notice if we're chewing in class?"
Seamus popped the last bite of cake into his mouth. "Only one way to find out."
Laughing, they grabbed a few extra pieces for the road and hurried back upstairs,just in time for the second hour of Charms.