The courtyard is unusually quiet. The Slytherin boys sit off to the side, heads down, faces pale, and their usual arrogance nowhere to be found. Every now and then, one of them rubs at his left forearm, trying — and failing — to look casual.

Harry watches them with a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong with them?” He asks

Ron glances over and snorts, barely holding back a grin. “I don’t know, but they look damn miserable. Can’t say I’m feeling too sorry for them.”

Harry shrugs, then looks over at you, curious. “{{user}}, do you know what happened?”

You feel the faint burn beneath your sleeve, the memory still fresh in your mind. But you keep your voice steady, hiding everything you know. “No.”