Plate loaded up with food, I left Kate to her thoughts, returning to the couch. Sadly, my spot had been swiped while I'd been gone, but I didn't mind too much. I leaned against the wall, watching and waiting and shoveling food into my hungry maw, my eyes locked onto the TV screen.
And then, it happened.
A few hours later, and the match was coming to a close. Things had been heated, and both sides had failed to score a single point against the other. It was a tie at zero. And there were only a couple minutes left.
I was on the edge of my seat (somebody else had gotten up and I'd swiped their seat so I could watch the game up close) and I gripped the arms of the recliner tightly as I stared intently at the screen.
It took all of my willpower and Occlumency training not to burst into cheers or even crack a smile at the sight on the scoreboard when the timer ran out and the end of the match was called. Celebrating the draw would look weird to the people surrounding me.
Still, I couldn't help a faint, hysterical giggle escaping my lips. Why? Because I'd just won a hundred and fifty thousand pounds! The bookie I'd used to place my initial bet had been giving odds of thirty to one on Denmark tying against England in the match today, and I'd scored big time!
'By the end of this, I'm going to be three million pounds richer!' I thought giddily.
This changed things. It proved my future knowledge was still reliable for now, and it gave me plenty of funds with which to play with.
'I wonder how Harry is doing?' I couldn't help but wonder as a lightning bolt shaped ad for a sports shoe flickered across the screen and reminded me of him. Hogwarts finals were coming up soon. Or had they already happened? I didn't know for sure. All I could do was pray he would stay safe, and that things worked out like they had in the book.
Harry POV
Harry frowned. He couldn't put his finger on it, but today felt off for some reason. Dinner was over, and he was relaxing in an armchair in the corner of the common room, digesting his meal with a good book. Ron and Neville were playing chess on the floor with Dean and Seamus, and Hermione was talking with the other First Year girls about magical makeup.
At first he'd been surprised, as he'd never seen the bushy-haired witch as one for that sort of topic, but apparently Hermione had been more interesting in the magical aspect behind it, as well as learning about the sort of cultural norms magical women grew up with.
Everything seemed nice and normal… except for the niggling sensation in his head that was telling him otherwise. He'd been feeling it all day, but it had grown significantly in the last couple of hours.
'Did I eat something weird? No, I don't think that's it. Have Hermione's study sessions finally driven me mad?' Harry wondered to himself. '…No, that's not it, either.'
He glanced around the Gryffindor common room, which was filled with a lot of other students chatting, studying, or relaxing. Nothing seemed out of place to him. In fact, it all felt unusually calm and collected. Well, calm for the House of the Brave, at least. He was pretty sure this would have been the equivalent of a shouting match in Slytherin or Ravenclaw.
The mood was upbeat, and his friends were doing well. Ron especially was still flying high several days after the final Quidditch match of the year. In fact, everyone in Gryffindor was cheerful. No wonder there, they'd won after all.
Harry wasn't sure it would be enough to beat Slytherin for the House Cup, but they'd won the Quidditch Cup, so at least there was that to celebrate.
But the celebratory mood wasn't what had made Harry feel unnerved, either. Was it nerves? Next week were the finals after all, and then followed a week-long period to relax before they were sent back to their homes.
Yet Harry wasn't sure that was the case, either. Hermione's long study sessions throughout May made him fairly certain their study group would be the top scorers. Even Ron and Neville would likely be in the upper percentage all things considered.
'And if they didn't get decent grades, I bet their parents – or grandmother in Neville's case – would give them a tongue lashing as soon as they got home,' Harry thought with a brief moment of amusement, before a feeling of depression hit him.
Home. That word… that damned word. The thought of the Dursleys and calling that cookie-cutter misery-shed they called a house his 'home' physically made Harry ill. They hated him, and the feeling was mutual. He was not looking forward to doing chores again, acting like a slave for the Dursleys. Two months with them was going to be torturous.
...
....
Join my P*atreon for 100 premium chapters ahead of the public release.
Link: pa*treon.com/MysticVerse (Remove the *)
Free members also get 2 advanced chapters for free.