Tim’s eyes narrowed as he worked out the handwriting to get the gist of the letter over Friday morning breakfast. He’d not slept well, owing to the eventful SAWS meeting the night before.
Fridays were Tim’s busiest day of the week for lessons, double potions, then defence and arithmancy before lunch, followed by double herbology, transfiguration and finally history. With all the measles-that-wasn’t-exactly-measles, Tim’s lessons had conspicuously empty seats. In the case of Defence at least, they also had a cover teacher at the helm who supervised them completing the longest research essay yet for Storm. The grumpy old man wasn’t even at Hogwarts, and he still set them hard work.
The Eagle owl was still waiting for the reply. Tim dug into his school robes to find a quill, and scribbled:
If you think you’re parseltongue I think Professor Onuris has a snake? I’ll meet you tomorrow morning after breakfast, empty classroom on the fifth floor.
- Tim