MetaFic

Saturday, September 14, 1991

The beautiful Snowy Owl, which Seamus had dubbed ‘Lark,’ nicked Harry’s sausage without so much as a by-your-leave and then leapt back into the sky.  The owl had completely ignored her supposed owner, which was less than surprising given Seamus’s utter lack of incoming or outgoing post.

“Two pieces of mail today, eh?  Who’s writing to you other than your wife?”  Seamus’ question carried the familiarity of a conversation long since trodden into mud.

Harry paused to skim the familiar-looking letter. “Cat keeps telling me you’ve not written her, you know,” Harry pointedly replied as he read.  “And Aoife-mum is getting a bit annoyed that neither of us have written her, which is making Cat annoyed since she has so little to deflect the inquisition.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seamus grumbled.  “It's not like Nev’s been writing home, now has he?”

“Hey!” Neville complained with a smile. “Leave me out of your squabble for once.  I wrote my gran to tell her I was sorted, and that’s all she wanted to know.”

“Told her we all wound up in Slytherin, right?” Seamus asked.

“No, that was me,” Harry replied.  “Cat didn’t care for the humour.  Darius-da says to get off your arse, Seamus, and write your mum, or he has a belt you’ll be reacquainted with.”

Ron and Dean chuckled, but Neville whistled softly.  “That's a real threat, too,” he said after a moment.  “Think your mum’s going ‘round the bend over something?”

“Dunno, I suppose it could just be –” Seamus stopped abruptly.  “Incoming, Harry.  The toadstool is back.  I’ll take care of it this time.”

“Don’t strain yourself, Seamus.  He just doesn’t learn, does he?” Harry asked while opening the second letter, which was written in an unfamiliar, messy scrawl.

It turned out to be a short note, but before Harry could decipher it, Malfoy arrived behind him.  “Potter, I’ve had enough of these rodents you keep conjuring. I know it’s you, no matter what the teachers say.”

“Oh, please,” Harry said without bothering to turn around.  “If you’re talking about the smaller toads that love to follow you, they’re amphibians, you nitwit, and snakes are supposed to eat them, not shriek in surprise.”

Malfoy spluttered behind him, but from the barely-suppressed grin on Neville’s face, Harry could tell the blond boy was enraged and embarrassed in some mixture.  Harry would only need to provide a bit of prompting to force the annoying insect to land in hot water of his own making.

“Anyway, Malfoy, I realise from the way you keep coming over here every morning that you’re just dying to be a fan of mine, but I prefer the cute ones, like Parvati or Padma, you know?  You can’t fault me for that, eh?”

A smattering of giggles reached his ears from just down the table, but Harry kept his focus on Seamus and Neville.  If either of his friends’ expressions showed the slightest shift away from poorly-concealed humour, he would take defensive precautions.  For the moment, he was taking a small risk that Malfoy would not try anything while surrounded by so many other students and staff.

“I don’t want to be a fan of yours, Potter!” Malfoy snarled back.  “I want payback for what you’ve been doing to me!”

Harry sighed dramatically.  “Really, Malfoy, you’re not too bright, are you?  Every time you run your mouth about people you think are inferior, you get into those interesting situations.  Maybe you should be a good snake and enjoy your dessert, rather than whining and posturing like a neutered puppy.”

“That’s it! I challenge you to a duel, with wands!”

Several students nearby went quiet at the same time.  Harry finally turned around to look at his annoying shadow, seeing for himself the unsettled grimace on the boy’s face. Harry smiled faintly and yawned.  “Sure thing, Draco dear.  Seamus will be my second.”

“Midnight, then, in the trophy room!”

“No,” Harry said, “I think not.  Professor Flitwick is a former dueling circuit champion.  You go get him to formally schedule our little scuffle, and then we’ll carry on.  Until then, well, some opening of yours is flapping and spewing fetid air, and I’m trying to have breakfast.  Run along, now.”

Malfoy glared at Harry and everyone nearby, though Harry thought that by now people were surely becoming inured to these random confrontations.  Fully expecting the boy to stomp off as he usually did, showing the fine breeding of any spoiled two-year-old, Harry was surprised when he opened his mouth again.  “You’ll get yours, Potter!  You’ll see that –”

Malfoy’s words cut off as a toad appeared out of nowhere, filling his mouth in an instant.  Harry blinked once, having expected something with a toad sooner or later.  The exact placement made him chuckle even as Malfoy started gagging.  “Well, Mr Toadstool,” Harry offered around his smile, “there’s your breakfast.  Cheers.”

Harry turned back around and shot Seamus a smile of appreciation for the spell-craft.  Neville was chuckling outright, and when he caught sight of Ron’s face, Harry wanted to start chuckling as well.  The redhead had his eyes closed, his face scrunched up, and was muttering under his breath, “Never forget this, never forget this,” in a litany of joy.

Putting the byplay aside would infuriate Malfoy all the further, which Harry thought would be worthwhile in and of itself.  “So at any rate, Seamus, write your sister, would you?”

Malfoy's stomping and spitting faded into the background as the boy clearly left the area.  With a wink, Seamus nodded back while casting a series of Lumos and Nox charms with his wand, making it resemble a torch with a faulty bulb.  “All right, all right.  I’ll write her.  Maybe your wife will let up then, eh?”

“Right, maybe my wife will,” Harry muttered.

“What was the second letter, Harry?” Neville asked after a moment's peace.  “I didn’t recognise the writing.”

“Oh, it’s from Hagrid, the gamekeeper.  Said he knew my parents and wanted to say hello.  He’s invited me down to tea, along with any friends that want to go.  You lot interested?”

Seamus and Neville both nodded, though Dean declined.  “I didn't get nearly as far with that Potions homework,” he said by way of apology.  “Say hello for me, though, will you?”

“Yeah, all right.  Ron?”

The redhead looked surprised at being asked directly, but he quickly nodded when Harry addressed him.

“Right, then.  Nev, you mind popping over to ask Michael if he wants to join us?  I'll write a quick reply so Hagrid knows how many to expect.”