A Bad Day

Ben's first day back wasn't off to a great start.

The moment he stepped off the Hogwarts Express, a blinding camera flash nearly sent him stumbling back. Apparently, Fred and George had caught wind of the tragic eyebrow incident and borrowed a first-year's camera to immortalise the moment. His eyebrows had long since grown back—thankfully—but the sudden burst of light still gave him quite the jumpscare.

"Oh, come on," Fred groaned, lowering the camera. "You grew them back?"

"Talk about inconsiderate," George sighed. "We had plans, Ben."

"Yeah, well," Ben muttered, rubbing his eyes, "so did my face."

Barely five minutes into his return to Hogwarts, Ben found himself summoned to Professor Flitwick's office—along with Cho Chang, who had been right behind him on the broomstick.

"Mr. Brown, I'll give you this—nobody has ever managed to get off the train before it reached the station. The Hogwarts Express has been running for over a century and a half, and you are the first in history."

Ben hesitated but ultimately couldn't help himself saying,"...Thank you?"

Flitwick gave him a look. "That was not a compliment."

Ben sank lower in his chair. "In my defence—"

"In your defence," Flitwick cut in, "you turned a century-old witch to stone and then staged a dramatic aerial escape with a passenger." He gave Cho a glance before returning his gaze to Ben. "I do appreciate a bit of flair, but I do not appreciate blatant disregard for school rules."

"And you, Miss Chang," Flitwick continued, turning to Cho. "I expected better judgment from a third-year. You might not have cast the spell, but you certainly didn't hesitate to go along for the ride."

Cho, who had been sitting stiffly, lowered her head.

Ben grimaced. "So… detention?"

Flitwick folded his arms. "Your broomstick is confiscated for the rest of the year, and both of you will spend the next month assisting Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. Given the injuries you could have sustained, I believe it will serve as an appropriate reminder."

Ben's jaw dropped. "Professor—!"

Flitwick raised a hand. "Mr. Brown, Miss Chang. I expect better decision-making from my Ravenclaws."

"Yes, Professor," they mumbled.

Flitwick sighed, his expression softening slightly. "See that it doesn't happen again."

Sliding off his chair, he gave them both a final look. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very cross Trolley Witch to apologise to."

As the door shut behind them, Ben and Cho exchanged a look.

"So," Ben muttered, "worth it?"

Cho exhaled slowly. "Ask me when I stop scrubbing bedpans."

They chuckled, but Ben couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made Cho's life more difficult. Unlike Gryffindor, Ravenclaw didn't take kindly to reckless shenanigans, and Cho's popularity was bound to take a hit after today.

And on top of that, without his broomstick, making the Quidditch tryouts this year was looking very unlikely. He had really been looking forward to that.

What a shame.

As if things weren't already spiralling downhill, breakfast in the Great Hall greeted Ben with a very familiar sight—a Howler, sitting ominously on the Ravenclaw table, practically vibrating with rage.

This time, it was from his mother.

At this rate, he'd be known as Howler Brown before long.

Just as the Howler looked ready to explode, Ben—who had long since reached his tipping point—simply plucked it off the table, dropped it into his hat, and casually placed the hat back on his head.

"Nope—never got it," he muttered, cutting into his eggs and bacon without missing a beat.

"Oh, sweet Rowena, it's about to blow!" Michael Corner yelped, grabbing Terry Boot and yanking him under the table.

But nothing happened.

Terry peeked out cautiously. "Wait… what?"

Luna, who had been sorted into Ravenclaw just last night while Ben was being chewed out by Flitwick, tilted her head curiously from across the table. "That hat's really quite convenient. Do you mind if I borrow it sometime?"

"Yeah, sure, why not," Ben said distractedly, pulling a plate of kippers toward him. Right now, food was his only comfort.

He still hadn't been called to Dumbledore's office, but he had no doubt the old goat already knew all about the Flying Ford Anglia Incident. Not that he was worried—he doubted it would come to expulsion.

So, instead of fretting, he focused on enjoying a sumptuous breakfast, occasionally glancing at the front page of The Daily Prophet, where the headline "FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES" stared back at him.

He chuckled. 'At this rate, Potter and Weasley better name their firstborns after me.' He'd saved them both from Snape's lecture and detention, spared Ron's wand from snapping in half, and even saved Arthur Weasley from a Ministry inquiry.

'No good deed goes unpunished, does it?' he thought, casting a glance at Cho. She sat alone, her usual group now gathered around Marietta instead. Marietta hadn't needed to do much—just a few pointed remarks about Cho losing her mind, running around with reckless troublemakers, and how certain people ought to know better, especially with her mother's new position at the Ministry. The smart Ravenclaws had quickly taken the hint.

Ben grabbed his plate and slid into the seat next to Cho, setting it down with a quiet clatter. Considering the whole mess had been his idea, it only seemed fair to check in.

"Morning," he said.

Cho, still absently prodding her food, glanced up. "Morning."

"How's the damage?" he asked, nodding toward her plate, then clarifying, "You know, emotionally."

She huffed a small laugh. "I'll live. You?"

"Well, I've made peace with my new life as Madam Pomfrey's personal house-elf, so there's that."

Cho smirked but didn't say anything, just went back to eyeing her plate. Ben followed her gaze to the kippers.

"Not a fan?" he asked.

"The bones put me off," she admitted.

"They're not bad once you get the hang of it," he said. "I just eat them whole, bones and all. Like a troll at a feast."

Cho gave him a dubious look. "That explains so much."

Ben grinned and picked up his knife and fork, expertly pulling the bones away. "Fine, if you're feeling more refined, do it like this."

She mimicked his movements, or at least made a show of it. The fish promptly fell apart into a mess of flakes and stray bones. She sighed. "Yeah, no. I give up."

Ben chuckled. "Takes practice. But, hey—solid effort."

She huffed, still poking at the disaster on her plate. "Maybe I'll just stick to toast."

Ben nudged his own plate toward her. "Here, take mine. No bones, no effort required."

She hesitated, then smiled slightly. "Thanks."

As she took a bite, Ben joked, "You know, for someone from Scotland, I'd have thought you'd be a natural at deboning fish."

Cho swallowed, completely unfazed. "Oh, I am."

Ben frowned. "...Wait—"

She just smiled and kept eating.

Ben glanced from his empty plate to Cho. "You did that on purpose."

She took another bite of kipper. "I simply accepted your generosity."

He sighed. "Got me to do all the work, then nicked my breakfast."

Cho, looking entirely too pleased with herself, reached for his toast. "Oh, look. More generosity."

Ben gave her a flat look. "Menace."

"Breakfast companion," she corrected, buttering the toast like it was hers all along.

Ben shook his head. "I've created a monster."

As Ben glanced toward Marietta's group, he caught them whispering behind their hands, their eyes flicking to Cho between hushed murmurs. He didn't bother deciphering it. Let them talk.

Cho deserved better than fair-weather friends.

-End of Chapter-

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