Without a doubt, Professor McGonagall would figure everything out today — but if the students handled it privately, the school obviously wouldn't interfere unnecessarily.
Percy bravely took responsibility and smoothed things over, becoming Gryffindor's "stay-behind hero." Professor McGonagall wouldn't have to waste her rare holiday on this headache, Slytherin got a pretext for revenge while saving face, and Andrew didn't have to work overtime — everyone won.
This neat outcome made Andrew's satisfaction grow even more. After happily finishing the last file, he left McGonagall's office, locked the door behind him, and headed for the library.
'This afternoon is story time… blissful story time…'
Under Madam Pince's slightly curious gaze, he borrowed three collections of fairy tales, stuffed them in his bag, and then headed for the dining hall.
But as soon as he reached the doors, Andrew noticed something was off — and only then, after a busy morning, did he remember poor Percy's warning about what might come.
Unlike the empty tables of other Houses, Slytherin's table was packed to the brim, every student wearing an expression like they'd just eaten a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean that tasted like earwax.
Meanwhile, the usually rowdy Gryffindor table was suspiciously quiet. Andrew glanced over but didn't even spot the famous Harry Potter.
"Psst — Andrew, keep your voice down. The Slytherins have gone mad."
A fellow first-year Ravenclaw whispered a warning, "Word is they're frantically hunting for Harry Potter, but the Gryffindors hid him away somewhere. Also, rumor has it the only Gryffindor prefect left on campus is now in the hospital."
Fair enough. If he were in Slytherin, he'd have put Harry in the hospital too — what better way to boost House unity?
But wow — Gryffindor's sense of battle tactics was terrifying this year. They'd actually predicted what Slytherin would do and countered it. Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.
Fully free from the threat of overtime, Andrew's gossip-loving heart was delighted. Unfortunately, neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Snape showed up during lunch — disappointing.
'This one might work for something… but the story jumps forward to Dumbledore's time as a professor too quickly. Pacing's off — not suitable…'
Andrew scribbled a rough plot summary in his notebook, marked the key "school" keyword, then put it away — it would be better to write out his ideas fully, but with the snow falling thick outside, he decided to stay cautious.
"A rocking chair, a fireplace, a snowy day, a good book…"
Andrew leaned back, even tempted to grab a blanket to snuggle in. "If only I had a nice cup of tea, that'd be perfect."
Unfortunately, this wasn't McGonagall's office — that house-elf Jim was assigned to her, and Andrew was basically freeloading off school resources there. Here, there was no loophole to exploit.
Still, it was enough. Maybe he looked so content that a few other Ravenclaws emerged from the dorm, each pulling over a lounge chair to settle by the fire too. They read quietly, not exchanging a word.
In that peaceful hush — broken only by the soft scratching of quills on parchment now and then — Andrew enjoyed a leisurely afternoon.
Not until dinner time did they scatter, without so much as introducing themselves — but that rare calm ended as dusk fell.
Inside the eerily quiet Great Hall, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws whispered among themselves, glancing at Gryffindor's completely empty table and the crowded but livid Slytherin side.
"It's insane — all the Gryffindors ran back to their common room. I heard the Slytherins searched the whole afternoon and didn't find a single one."
The low murmurs didn't make the Hall any louder — they only made its silence feel deeper. A few Hufflepuffs whispered that it was Harry Potter secretly organizing everything, but no one had any proof.
++++
"Pass around the snacks! Think of those Slytherins' faces in the Great Hall today!"
The Gryffindors who stayed behind were in high spirits. The Weasley twins — masterminds of the fake train plan — had somehow smuggled in a pile of treats, and the common room was full of grins and clinking butterbeer.
They even popped open bottles of butterbeer and pumpkin juice. "This one's for Percy!"
"To Percy!"
George leaned over to whisper to his twin, "Percy, that guy… who'd have thought he'd come up with such a brilliant, reputation-making move?"
"Well, he's stuck in the hospital — poor Percy broke a leg, an arm, and he's still coughing up bubbles… probably won't be back on his feet until the day after tomorrow."
"Hey, he did take on all of Slytherin's fifth-years alone — thank Merlin the sixth- and seventh-years didn't jump in."
"And thanks to Harry, too — he figured it out right after lunch." The twins exchanged a conspiratorial grin and raised their butterbeer mugs toward Harry.
+++++
Early the next morning, the Hogwarts Express — forced to run another special trip — returned to Hogwarts yet again, exhausted after a whole extra day's run. The Slytherins, who still hadn't managed to vent their anger, nearly gave up on going home altogether.
By lunchtime, the resurgent Gryffindors even found time during their meal to whistle mockingly at them, while the Slytherins still on campus shot daggers with their eyes — not that it mattered, since the Gryffindors outnumbered them.
As for Andrew, he carried a bouquet of roses he'd mail-ordered along with some sweets, his expression calm as he made his way to the hospital wing to visit Percy. He'd meant to come yesterday, but given the Slytherins' vengeful mood, he'd decided — like the other Gryffindors — to lay low.
Percy's hospital bed was already piled high with flowers and snacks from well-wishers. But since he needed rest, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let anyone stay long.
"How are you feeling?"
"Still need some time."
Seeing Andrew's sincere look, Percy nearly forgot that the boy standing here had been the one to talk him into this mess — which, while it won him House cheers, had landed him flat in the hospital.
"You've got to get better quickly," Andrew said, "or you'll be giving those Slytherins exactly what they want."
"I wish — but Madam Pomfrey says I need to stay put a few more days."
Percy's voice was faint now, exhausted.
"I'd love to recover faster, but… cough cough…" He sighed weakly under Andrew's surprised stare. "Looks like… the office work's on you, for now."
T/N: For up to 30 chapters ahead on most of my translations, become a p@tron at p@treon.com/LordHipposApostle