Chapter 255: What Harry Regrets Most
Ten minutes ago, Harry Potter regretted, for the very first time, that he couldn't travel back in time to stop himself from entering Ron's room.
He might've preferred to sleep with Percy instead.
Ron's house was, in many ways, Harry's dream home — full of magic and unmistakable wizarding charm.
The ceilings were slanted, and the entire room was a dazzling orange — from the bedspread to the walls and even the ceiling itself.
Harry had long grown accustomed to Ron's eccentric tastes. After all, Ron had decorated his dorm bed in Ravenclaw in much the same way.
The most distinctively wizard-like feature of Ron's room was the source of all that orange — the Chudley Cannons posters.
Every single one showed the same seven witches and wizards in bright orange robes, smiling broadly as they posed with broomsticks.
Looking at those posters, Harry couldn't help but suspect that Ron's enthusiasm for the team had less to do with Quidditch and more with the seven attractive witches in the photos.
Harry then glanced toward Ron's desk, hoping to find something more scholarly or Ravenclaw-like.
But there was nothing of the sort. His textbooks were stacked haphazardly in the corner, next to a pile of comic books — "Doraemon" perched proudly on top.
Beneath it lay several dusty old issues of The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle, clearly long abandoned.
Ron's wand was resting beside a fish tank on the windowsill, where clusters of frog eggs floated lazily.
His fat gray rat, Scabbers, lay snoring beside it.
"It's not bad," said Alexander Smith, breathing out as his earlier embarrassment was eased by Harry's smile.
"Help me," came Draco's voice from the side.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, baffled.
"You don't like my house?" Ron and Harry said together when they saw Draco's actions.
In the middle of the orange room sat a green dragonskin bag, immediately drawing their attention.
Their friend, Draco Malfoy, was pulling out what appeared to be an unassembled tent.
"Come on, Ron. I just don't want to sleep with you," Draco muttered.
"To be precise, I don't want to share a bed with anyone."
As he struggled to sort out the tent poles, Harry couldn't help but grin.
"I've never pitched a tent before," Draco went on. "You all know that."
"The Dursleys never took me anywhere during holidays," said Harry. "They always dumped me with Mrs. Figg."
For some reason, that made Harry think of Filch—a female version of Mrs. Figg. If they were in China, Alexander once joked, they'd probably be considered distant relatives. Both names started with an "F," both were fond of cats… the logic was absurdly convincing.
"Stop fumbling, just use your wand," Ron said, exasperated, stepping over to help Draco.
After a bit of cursing and clattering, Draco finally got all the parts out. With a flick of his wand, the poles and screws flew together, and a small, plain blue tent appeared before them.
"You can sleep in here. The ground's rough, but it's better than sharing a bed."
"Draco, believe me," said Harry, "I've shared a bed with Ron before."
"What about now?" Ron huffed. "Not good enough for you anymore?"
Draco ignored the jab, his expression smug. He gestured for the two to follow, then crawled into the tent on all fours.
Harry bent down and followed—and froze.
Inside was a luxurious three-room apartment, complete with a bathroom and even a small game room.
"This… this is your idea of camping?" Harry stammered.
"Is it necessary to be this extravagant?" Ron asked, his tone halfway between awe and irritation.
"In your eyes, is our house not good enough for you?"
"Come on, Ron," Draco sighed. "I didn't even know we were staying here tonight. Weren't we supposed to go to Sirius's place?"
"Right…" Ron muttered, his anger fading.
The three of them climbed out of the tent soon after, debating where Harry should sleep that night.
And that was when the disaster struck—
The moment that led to what Harry would soon regret the most.
Because Draco had opened his mouth.
Bang!
A flash of fiery red—mixed with a hint of blue—shot past the doorway. Then came the sound of pounding footsteps and a door slamming shut.
"Ginny!" Ron shouted, frozen in shock.
"Draco, you absolute idiot!"
"It took me nearly a month to convince Ginny that Harry and I don't have some kind of love that transcends gender!" Ron groaned, face bright red as he glared at Draco, then ran out of the room.
"Charming," Draco muttered.
"The Malfoy brat and our little brother—"
"Jealous!"
"Fighting over Harry!"
Two fiery red heads—Fred and George—popped through the doorway.
"Why didn't you call us sooner?"
They scanned the room quickly, then vanished again with mischievous grins.
Moments later, Percy appeared, shooting Harry and Draco a disapproving look before walking off like a pompous professor.
Harry couldn't help but notice how Percy's chest was puffed up, clearly to show off his shiny prefect badge.
"That Percy…" Harry said with a sigh.
"I think that expression was fake," Draco replied, narrowing his eyes.
"Because he keeps holding out his chest?" Harry guessed.
"Exactly. Haven't you noticed? Percy's been trying to show off in front of us all evening."
"Probably because we—" Draco began.
"Didn't congratulate him on becoming a prefect," Harry finished.
Draco gave him an approving nod.
"Are you two done flirting yet?" Ron said as he returned, looking thoroughly defeated. "If I weren't involved, I'd think Rita Skeeter's articles were completely true."
Harry winced, and even Draco couldn't find a good comeback for that.
"You're insane," Draco muttered at last.
Ron collapsed face-first onto his bed. "No, not insane. Just doomed. Ginny, Fred, George—even Percy heard everything. I ran into Mum and Dad on the way back. They… they know too."
Harry was certain that even if the Chudley Cannons finally won a championship, it wouldn't bring a smile to Ron's face that night.
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(End of Chapter 255)
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