Professor McGonagall studied the three teenagers standing before her and raised an eyebrow.
“I assume this concerns all three of you?” she asked.
Harry nodded firmly and handed over the four letters he had received.
“Yes, Professor.”
At the same time, Daphne quietly passed her own correspondence to Professor Snape.
Silence settled over the Entrance Hall as both professors began reading.
Harry, Hermione, and Daphne watched carefully.
Professor McGonagall’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to astonishment, before finally settling into outright shock.
Snape, however, looked furious from the very first line.
“What is the meaning of this, Potter?” he demanded sharply.
“How exactly did this occur?”
Before Harry could respond, Daphne stepped forward.
Her icy gaze locked onto the Potions Master.
“With all due respect, Professor,” she said coolly, “that is none of your concern.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed.
“You have been informed because protocol requires it. Beyond that, the circumstances are private. It is neither your right nor your place to question us regarding them.”
“Professor Snape!” McGonagall snapped immediately.
“You know better than to ask such questions.”
Though clearly displeased, Snape remained silent.
He offered no apology, but at least refrained from making any further comments.
Turning back to Harry, McGonagall composed herself.
“Very well. I presume you’ll require accommodations suitable for a three-person soul bond?”
“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied.
“As I understand it, that’s standard procedure.”
“It is.”
She nodded decisively.
“I’ll arrange everything at once. Your apartment will be ready immediately following the Headmaster’s announcements. I’ll personally escort the three of you there afterward.”
Hermione visibly relaxed.
“Have you decided whether you would prefer quarters near Gryffindor Tower or the Slytherin dormitories?”
Harry glanced toward Daphne.
“If those are the only options,” Daphne answered thoughtfully, “then Gryffindor would be preferable. However, isn’t there a location that could be considered neutral ground between the two Houses?”
McGonagall considered the suggestion.
“I’ll see what can be done. If no such apartment is available, I’ll arrange one near the Gryffindor common room.”
After a brief pause, she added,
“Given the circumstances, all three of you are also entitled to request a resorting.”
Harry immediately looked toward the girls.
Daphne shook her head.
“No, Professor. I don’t believe that’s necessary. At least not at this time.”
Hermione and Harry quickly agreed.
“Very we—”
She stopped abruptly as the sound of footsteps echoed through the Entrance Hall.
Everyone turned.
Harry immediately recognized the newcomer.
Alastor Moody.
Or rather, Barty Crouch Junior disguised as Alastor Moody.
The sight still made Harry’s stomach tighten despite knowing the truth.
“Ah, Alastor,” McGonagall greeted.
The false Moody’s magical eye swept over the group.
For a brief moment, Harry wondered if the man suspected anything.
Then Moody simply grunted and limped past them into the Great Hall.
The moment he disappeared through the doors, Harry looked back at McGonagall.
She seemed to understand the unspoken question.
“That was Professor Alastor Moody, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
Harry forced himself to nod.
McGonagall continued.
“As I said, your apartment will be ready after the feast. However, I expect the Headmaster will wish to speak with all of you regarding this development.”
“I’m sure he will,” Harry replied dryly.
“He does seem to take a rather… unusual interest in my life.”
“Mister Potter!” McGonagall exclaimed, looking scandalized.
“What exactly are you implying?”
Harry met her gaze calmly.
“Nothing, Professor. I’m merely stating an observable fact.”
The Transfiguration professor studied him for several seconds.
Clearly, she sensed something had changed but couldn’t quite determine what.
Finally, she nodded.
“If the Headmaster does request your presence after the feast, I shall accompany you.”
“As you should,” Daphne said before Harry could reply.
“As Harry’s Head of House, you should be present whenever he’s summoned to the Headmaster’s office.”
McGonagall frowned slightly at the interruption but did not disagree.
Instead, she gestured toward the Great Hall.
“I believe we’ve delayed the feast long enough. Let us return.”
The group followed her back inside.
By the time they reclaimed their seats, dinner was already underway.
Before touching any of the food, Harry turned to the girl seated opposite them.
“Did anyone approach our places while we were gone? Touch our food, plates, cups, anything?”
The student looked surprised but shook her head.
“No.”
“Thank you.”
Only then did Harry begin filling his plate.
Leaning slightly toward Hermione, he lowered his voice.
“Add another item to the list.”
“What?”
“Detection charms. For potions and poisons.”
Hermione immediately nodded.
“Agreed.”
As Harry glanced toward the staff table, he noticed Professor McGonagall speaking quietly with Dumbledore.
His jaw tightened.
Hermione noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“The Headmaster.”
Harry stabbed a potato with perhaps more force than necessary.
“Our business,” Hermione corrected quietly.
Harry sighed.
“Exactly.”
“Harry, he’s the Headmaster,” she said.
“Some of this is his responsibility.”
“I know.”
He rubbed a hand across his face.
“Maybe you’re right in this case. But I’m done letting him interfere with every aspect of my life. I’ve had enough of it.”
Hermione couldn’t argue.
She merely nodded sadly.
The remainder of the feast passed much as Harry remembered.
Dumbledore formally introduced Alastor Moody as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
The Triwizard Tournament was announced.
The cancellation of Quidditch drew the expected groans from students across every House.
Yet despite Harry’s expectations, no summons from Dumbledore ever came.
Once the feast ended, Professor McGonagall appeared beside their table.
Daphne had already joined them.
“Ready, Mister Potter, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass?”
“Yes, Professor,” they answered together.
She led them from the Great Hall.
As they climbed the moving staircases, Harry finally voiced a question that had been bothering him.
“Professor, how were you able to arrange all of this so quickly?”
“The castle’s house-elves,” McGonagall replied.
At Harry’s surprised look, she continued.
“I informed them of the situation. They handled the preparations and reported back to me during the Headmaster’s announcements.”
“That makes sense,” Harry said.
McGonagall inclined her head.
“The elves also informed me that only the apartments near Gryffindor Tower are currently available.”
“Convenient,” Hermione murmured.
Their journey eventually carried them all the way to the seventh floor.
Rather than approaching the Fat Lady’s portrait directly, McGonagall turned down a smaller side corridor.
At the far end hung a portrait of a dignified witch dressed in elegant emerald robes.
“Good evening, Priscilla,” McGonagall greeted.
The painted woman smiled.
“Professor.”
Her eyes shifted to the three students.
“I assume these are my new residents?”
“They are.”
The portrait nodded.
“Then welcome.”
With that, the painting swung open like a door.
McGonagall stepped aside and motioned for them to enter.
Harry crossed the threshold first.
The moment he stepped inside, he stopped.
His eyes widened as he took in his new home.