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Stag and Otter

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"This is rubbish." Ron moped. "It's bloody fourth-year all over again."

Harry grunted his acknowledgement as he finished scribbling his note on the parchment in front of him. Parchment he had carefully selected for this purpose.

"They still move in bloody packs. It's like they close ranks after the announcement."

"Yep," Harry replied as he carefully worked the seems. It needed to be perfect.

"C'mon, Harry. Help a guy out would you?"

"One moment." The Head Boy nodded as he held aloft his masterpiece. "Done!"

"What is that? Nevermind, I need your help picking one."

"I said one moment, Ron. Gotta be perfect."

Harry half-stood and rested his knee and lower leg along the bench, aiming over Ron's shoulder.

"Harry... what are you doing?" Ron called, a shudder in his voice as he eyed the pointed tip facing him.

Harry took a deep breath, pulled back his arm and let loose with a deft flick of his wrist. Ron yelped and fell backwards off the wooden bench, clattering loudly as he hit the stone floor and drawing nearly every eye in the Great Hall.

"What the hell, Harry?"

The raven-haired boy watched as a hand shot out and clasped the parchment, ending its perfect flight plan. A nervous grin on his face as he watched the owner of the hand open the artwork and read the note within.

Brown eyes looked up at him and he let out the held breath as he recognized the mirth in the familiar orbs. A slight nod the only reply from the Head Girl at the far end of the table.

Harry leapt up, a fist in the air in triumph before he knelt beside his prone friend, hand extended.

"C'mon, Ron. Let's go find you a date."