On Sunday, Vid unusually woke up late. By the time he arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, quite a few people were already seated at the four long tables, and the hall was noisier than usual.
He sat down in his regular spot, poured himself a glass of carrot juice, and had just placed a piece of fried egg on his plate when he heard a flapping sound coming from outside.
A flock of owls flew into the hall through the open windows, circled around, then dropped letters, newspapers, or packages onto their targets, making a brisk thumping sound.
A grayish-brown owl landed in front of Vid, released its grip, and dropped a rolled-up item with a thud on the table.
It then ruffled its feathers, folded its wings, and looked at Vid with a dignified "hoo" sound coming from its throat.
"Thank you, General Bad."
Vid reached out and patted its head, then grabbed a roasted chicken leg for himself and tore off a few strips of meat to feed the owl.
The owl swallowed them in a few bites, nodded contently, flapped its wings, and flew back the way it came.
Michael leaned over from the side, still chewing on a piece of toast. He glanced at the parcel wrapped in parchment and twine. It was obviously a newspaper from the side view.
"Did you subscribe to a new newspaper?" he mumbled, "What's it called? This packaging is much more thoughtful than the Prophet Daily."
The Prophet Daily, subscribed to by the entire British Magic World, was much simpler—just a roll of newspaper without any protective measures.
Sometimes it would even be carelessly tossed by an owl into a student's pumpkin juice or land on buttered bread, and the recipient could only consider themselves unlucky.
"It's just an old Muggle newspaper," Vid said. "It covers some news I'm very interested in, so I had my father send it over."
He placed the newspaper next to his plate, clearly not intending to open it right then.
Michael blinked, looking a bit curious.
At this moment, a piece of parchment was handed to him from the side.
Michael took it in his hand, and then Vid discovered he had one too.
Anthony Goldstein was holding a stack of parchment with a fresh ink scent, distributing them one by one.
"What's this?" Vid glanced down.
"Isn't it that thing we talked about last night in the Common Room?" Lisa replied offhandedly from the other side, then realized it was Vid speaking. "Oh, I almost forgot, you weren't there."
Vid had already seen the title on the paper—
"Hogwarts Student Representative Monitoring Group Recommendation Form"
There was a small note below:
1. Each year of each house can only nominate two people—one male and one female.
2. Nominations are limited to students from one's own house and year.
3. Those with the highest votes will be elected, but the final result will be determined jointly by the school and the Ministry of Magic's Security Envoy.
Vid raised an eyebrow and looked at Michael.
Michael was also looking at him, a smile spread across his lips, clearly saying: Look, we're fast, aren't we?
"Have you spoken to the professor?" Vid asked.
"No," Michael said. "Since we want to 'take initiative,' we might as well do it more thoroughly."
Vid nodded, glancing at the teachers' table.
Professor McGonagall seemed completely unaware, her eyes focused on her plate as she diligently sliced bacon;
Professor Flitwick was also devoting his attention to eating, raising a cup full of pumpkin juice and clinking it with a smiling Professor Sprout, as if celebrating something happy.
He suddenly noticed Vid, blinked, smiled swiftly, and then looked away.
Hagrid looked a little puzzled as he pulled out his class schedule and checked it twice, then confirmed with Madam Pince beside him: "We haven't changed the schedule recently, have we?"
"No,"
Madam Pince replied with a stern expression.
Her expression always seemed somewhat unhappy.
"Oh, that's good then."
Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed a piece of bread, stuffed it whole into his mouth, not caring about what was being distributed among the students.
Vid curled his lips into a smile, his gaze returning to the parchment in front of him, and said:
"For the lower years, it's fine, but in our year, wouldn't Anthony and Padma be perfect representatives?"
Anthony was turning to hand a recommendation form to the newly arrived Terry, and upon hearing Vid, he turned back and said, "No, I don't think so."
Several surrounding Ravenclaws also turned to look at him, and Terry directly asked, "But you're the prefect, why not?"
Anthony earnestly said, "If it's organizing events or maintaining order, I'd be happy to do it. I enjoy keeping things orderly."
"But Terry, you know—joining the Monitoring Group might mean confronting Ministry of Magic officials and advocating for students' rights."
"I..."
He took a deep breath and shook his head, saying, "I'm not sure I can do that... I probably can't. I might back down because I'm not the kind of person who can stand at the forefront."
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
Teenagers, typically don't admit "I can't do it" in front of others. Even in the face of immense challenges, they bravely insist "no problem" and act as if it's a piece of cake.
But Anthony wasn't one of them.
When he said this, his face showed no trace of embarrassment or any attempt to conceal, deflect, or that false modesty that says "I'm just being humble, though I secretly hope for recognition and retention."
He was merely stating a fact—"I can't do it, so don't choose me."
"Alright, since you put it that way." Terry crossed out a name that was half-written, saying, "Then who do you think is suitable?"
Anthony looked at Vid, saying, "Vid, I actually hope you can... if you don't have the time, Michael is more suitable than me."
"Well, it's rare for you to openly admit I'm better."
Michael chimed in, grinning, nodding, and then waving to everyone.
"Hey, folks, vote for me! I may not be able to argue persuasively, but I can deflect humorously, ensuring the Ministry's whip doesn't fall on our own people!"
A burst of laughter erupted around, and many people really changed the name to Michael.
Michael then turned to Anthony, adding, "Vid really isn't suitable. He can certainly put up a fight, but making him a representative means you'll need to brace for the Ministry envoy having a minor meltdown."
"That's fine too," Anthony laughed and said, "Anyway, you two are certainly aligned, so make sure to get along well with Padma, Michael!"
Michael's expression stiffened, as if he had just remembered this detail.
He suddenly felt a chill down his spine and turned back, only to see Daphne's back sitting at the Slytherin table.