MTLNOVEL Chapter 173: The Howler
The morning sun filtered lazily through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting golden rays across the long breakfast tables. Students filed in yawning and bleary-eyed, still recovering from the excitement of the feast the night before.
At the Gryffindor table, Cael sat halfway through a slice of toast, flipping through Advanced Rune Structure: Northern Variants, the margin filled with notes. Lee Jordan beside him was buttering three crumpets at once while holding a conversation about Quidditch line-ups with Alicia Spinnet.
Farther down the table, Ron looked like he hadn't slept at all.
"Dead man walking," George whispered, nudging Fred as they slid into seats on either side of him.
"I can feel it," Fred whispered dramatically. "Like the moment before a storm."
Harry sat beside Ron, still half-asleep, poking at a bowl of porridge. Hermione had already started on toast and pumpkin juice, eyeing them both from over the top of The Daily Prophet.
Then, from high above, came the soft rustle of wings.
The morning mail.
Hundreds of owls soared through the high windows, dipping and weaving across the Hall. Letters and parcels fluttered down like feathered snowflakes.
And then it came.
A red envelope, glowing like a cursed ember, screeching toward Ron Weasley at top speed.
"Oh no," Ron whispered. "No, no, no—"
And Fred Grinned and said " Oh yes , yes , yes "
The letter, It hit the table in front of him with a soft thunk.
A beat of silence.
Then Ron lunged.
Too late.
The envelope burst open with a loud crack, and Molly Weasley's voice exploded across the Hall, magnified a hundredfold.
"RONALD WEASLEY!"
Several students dropped their forks. An owl nearly crashed into a chandelier. The enchanted ceiling rippled in alarm.
"HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR?! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOU COULD HAVE DIED! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN SEEN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE STRESS YOU PUT US THROUGH?!"
Ron turned scarlet, slumping forward with his face in his hands. The Howler hovered above him, shrieking.
"AND HARRY POTTER, DON'T THINK I'M LETTING YOU OFF EITHER! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SENSIBLE ONE!"
Harry sank lower in his seat, wishing he could disappear. Fred and George were shaking with suppressed laughter, their faces turning red from the effort. Cael, meanwhile, calmly turned a page of his book, an unmistakably wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He could have stopped this from happening—easily, in fact—but no. He had wanted to see it unfold right before his eyes.
"YOUR FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK—AN INQUIRY! THE WHOLE MINISTRY! OH, RONALD, JUST WAIT UNTIL I SEE YOU AT CHRISTMAS!"
With a final, earsplitting wail, the Howler incinerated itself in a puff of smoke and ash.
The Great Hall was silent.
Then came the laughter.
It started in small ripples, then rolled across the room like a wave. Students clutched their sides, some wiping tears from their eyes. Even some of the teachers at the staff table wore tightly restrained smiles.
Percy, however, looked satisfied.
"Serves you right,you better remember this so you don't pull a stunt like this ever again." he said smugly, biting into a croissant.
Ron groaned, forehead still pressed to the table. "I want to die."
"Not until after Charms," Cael offered helpfully. "I hear Flitwick's starting levitation drills."
But before anyone could recover fully, another voice intruded.
"Ah—Harry!"
Cael didn't even need to look up.
Gilderoy Lockhart, in all his turquoise-robed glory, stood just behind Harry's chair, beaming as though someone had carved the expression into his face.
"Rough morning, hmm?" Lockhart chuckled. "Ah, those Howlers. Loudest bit of parenting in magical history."
Harry said nothing, clearly hoping Lockhart would vanish if he kept perfectly still.
But Lockhart had come with purpose.
He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I must say, that entrance of yours—flying a car to school! Incredible drama! Shame about the Whomping Willow, but what a tale for the press, eh?"
Harry grimaced.
Lockhart leaned in conspiratorially. "Now, a bit of advice, my boy." He lowered his voice slightly, though Cael—and most of the table—could still hear every word.
"Fame is a tricky thing, Harry. I know what it's like—everybody wants a piece of you. But you mustn't let it go to your head."
Harry blinked. "Shut the F—"
Lockhart raised a finger. "Throwing up your hands, running around like you own the place—it's a slippery slope, my dear boy. Soon you'll start to believe you're invincible. That rules don't apply to you. That your… dramatic flair gives you license for lawlessness."
Ron opened his mouth furiously, but Hermione kicked him under the table.
Lockhart sighed dramatically. "I understand. I do. When I defeated the Bandon Banshee—horrid creature—people were so quick to heap praise. But I stayed grounded. Humble. Modest."
Cael glanced at Lee. "Did he just say he stayed modest?"
Lee grinned. "Must've been under a Confundus charm."
"And Harry," Lockhart said, giving him another patronizing pat, "don't imagine that defeating You-Know-Who as a baby makes you above reproach. Honestly, had I been there, I daresay I would've ended him myself, and far more neatly."
Harry's mouth hung open.
"So chin up," Lockhart finished with a wink. "Don't vomit in public, don't believe your own hype, and for Merlin's sake—smile. There are younger students watching."
With a final gleam of his teeth, Lockhart swept back to the staff table, robes billowing like a peacock in flight.
Ron stared after him, dumbfounded. "He's—he's actually mad."
"I think I lost brain cells," Harry muttered, pushing his porridge away.
Hermione huffed. "Honestly, that man…"
"He's lucky Ginny wasn't nearby," Cael said dryly, stretching. "We'd have needed a mop."
Laughter broke out again, this time less frantic and more genuine. The mood lightened once more, though Harry still looked like he wanted to crawl under the table.
But breakfast resumed.
Above them, the enchanted ceiling had shifted to a bright blue morning sky, clouds drifting lazily as it looked beautiful.