Metanoia • Harry Potter • Book I

Chapter Six

As Keziah had sleepily predicted, the next morning was chaotic.

People were rushing in and out of the dorm room, flying socks and sweets packets being thrown around like missiles. There was barely enough time to speak as the Slytherin second-years tried to make it on time for breakfast.

By the time they all got to the Great hall, subconsciously agreeing to go in all together, they were only mildly late.

The table was almost full, meaning they had to squeeze in at the end, shooing away a trio of terrified first-years. Since it was the first breakfast of the year and timetables were being handed out, everybody was sitting at their house tables, shoving toast into their mouths and chattering excitedly about the new year.

"I'm still finding glitter everywhere," Draco moaned, dusting his hands as he shot Pansy a dirty look. The girl smiled back sweetly.

"Oh stop complaining, Draco," snapped Daphne. "You look perfectly fine. At least you got to gel up your hair. I haven't even seen my hairbrush!"

"Never again," said Millicent, falling asleep into her pancakes.

"I warned you lot," said Keziah smugly, interrupted by a heavy yawn.

"Shut up," Theo growled. "Like you weren't being stupid along with us."

"I'm fine," Blaise preened and, infuriatingly, he was. He didn't look tired in the slightest, happily digging into his cereal amongst the misery.

There was a chorus of groans as Lily attempted to chuck porridge at his head. Keziah only half-heartedly tried to stop her.

Crabbe and Goyle also looked fine, but Keziah had never seen them look any different, so that alluded nothing.

"How are you two?" she asked, jabbing her thick arms. "Suffering like us, or being a dick like Blaise."

The boys' eyes widened in surprise at her question.

"Well," said Crabbe. "I am tired, very tired. Also, I'd like some bacon but there's none left down here."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Then just go ask for more," he said.

"You can do that?" Crabbe grinned and jumped from his seat. Draco watched him leave, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering sternly under his breath.

"What about you, Goyle?"

"Erm," the large boy thought. It looked hard. "I went to America for the summer. It was fun. I got to see Ill-ver-moany."

"It's called Ilvermorny," said Draco tiredly. "And she asked if you were tired, Goyle."

"Oh — not really. Could I tell you about Ill-ver-moany?"

"Sure," Draco sighed.

Daphne leaned in at the mention of the American wizarding school.

"I know about that," she said. "Apparently Americans hate Muggles."

"Why wouldn't they?" Theo snorted.

Keziah scowled at him but she couldn't say anything in response, since Blaise had chimed in.

"I might've gone there," he said. "My dad lives in Massachusetts, you know. But Mother doesn't even want to risk me meeting him, so Hogwarts it was. He was her only husband that didn't die. I wonder why."

There was an awkward silence that followed. Nobody wanted to say anything but also had everything to say. They were saved by the arrival of the post. A cacophony of hoots and twitters signalled the descent of the owls, scrolls tied to their talons or clamped tightly in their beaks.