Like Fire and Moonlight - Chapter 2: The Worst Possible Partner

The trio reached the Prefects' Compartment just as the train rounded a tighter curve, the sound of metal wheels screeching against the tracks filling the air. Despite Hermione’s complaints, Harry hadn’t been able to resist stopping in the corridor for a quick chat with Amelia Baxter, a girl he used to date, which had delayed them by a few minutes.

When they entered, they noticed that all the other prefects were already seated. Harry recognized Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan, the Hufflepuff prefects, who gave them polite, reserved nods. Next to them were Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil, the Ravenclaw representatives. Padma shot Harry a cold glance, her lips tightening into a thin line – she clearly still hadn’t forgiven him for the way he’d ended things with her twin sister the previous year.

And, of course, there were the Slytherin prefects. Malfoy, wearing his usual expression of superiority, looked like he was on the verge of making a snide remark the moment Harry stepped inside. Beside him, Pansy Parkinson adjusted her hair with a look of disdain that almost matched his. Harry still wondered how those two had managed to get their badges – perhaps it was Lucius Malfoy’s influence on the Board of Governors, or simply the lack of better options.

Malfoy lifted his chin, his gray eyes narrowing as they met Harry’s. “Surprised to see you here, Potter. Dumbledore must be completely out of his mind if he thinks you’re worthy of being Head Boy.”

Harry smirked, leaning against the door as if settling in for a casual chat. “Missed me, Malfoy? I didn’t think you could look more like a ferret, but I guess I was wrong.”

Malfoy scoffed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “If you think I’m going to take orders from you, you’re seriously deluded. I’m not about to put up with your –”

“Oh, but you will,” Harry cut in, his grin widening. “I’m the Head Boy, remember?” He put unnecessary emphasis on the word “Head,” his eyes gleaming with provocation. “So it’s your duty to listen to me. You don’t have much of a choice.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but a firm voice cut through the compartment, echoing off the walls.

“If you two are done comparing wand sizes, can we start the meeting?”

Harry froze, his smile vanishing instantly. He turned his head toward the source of the voice, and his stomach twisted. Sitting perfectly composed on one of the benches, her Head Girl badge gleaming against the green of her Slytherin uniform, was Daphne Greengrass.

She regarded him with the practiced calm of someone trained never to show weakness. Her blonde hair fell in flawless waves over her shoulders, and her icy blue eyes radiated a mixture of boredom and irritation in his direction.

“What is this?” Harry demanded, feeling his face heat with a mix of surprise and indignation. He quickly turned to Ron and Hermione, his eyes narrowing. “You two knew about this, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ron shrugged, his lips curving into a half-smile that he tried to suppress but failed miserably. Hermione gave him a stern look, arms crossed as if ready to lecture him.

“What difference would it have made, Harry?” she shot back, her brown eyes steady on his. “You’re both adults. You need to learn to work together, even if you can’t stand each other.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Daphne interrupted, tapping her fingers lightly against the cover of the notebook she was holding, as if the sound of his frustration was starting to test her patience.

“If you’re done being shocked by reality, Potter,” she said, her lips curling into a cool, calculated smile, “can we start discussing this year’s assignments?”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling Sirius’s leather jacket weigh on his shoulders like armor, but he nodded, forcing himself to remember that as Head Boy, he had to keep his composure – even if his partner was the last person in the world he’d want to share this responsibility with.

He sat down beside Greengrass, in the spot reserved for the Head Students at the very end of the table. It was the first time he’d shared space with her outside of a classroom or detention, and the proximity bothered him more than he expected. He could catch the subtle scent of her perfume – something citrusy, but with a bitter note – which somehow fit the sharp tone she always seemed to use.

Daphne crossed her legs with the cold grace of someone used to being the center of attention, her long fingers resting on the polished surface of the table, the Head Girl badge on her chest gleaming like a shield. She lifted her eyes to the group in front of them, her icy blue pupils as sharp as blades.

“As many of you know,” she began, her voice clear and controlled, “Potter and I weren’t prefects in previous years.” She shot a quick glance at Harry, who leaned back slightly, as if more distance could lessen the impact of her gaze. “To be honest, I have no idea what went through McGonagall’s mind when she put us in these positions, but I’ll do my best to make sure this doesn’t turn into a disaster.” She turned to Harry, her eyes narrowing slightly. “At least, I will.”

Harry felt the muscles in his shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he fought the urge to raise his middle finger. He forced himself to take a deep breath, teeth gritted. It wasn’t like he had asked for this position.

Daphne leaned forward, her fingers still resting precisely on the polished wood of the table. “We’ll meet tomorrow to set up the patrol schedules for the first month, but today we just need to organize the train patrols. We’ve got about five hours before we reach Hogsmeade Station, so it’s simple: we need to make sure all students are in the right compartments and that no chaos breaks out.”

Ernie MacMillan raised his hand. “In previous years, we paired different houses together for patrols to avoid conflicts. Are we doing that again?”

“No,” Harry said, trying to take control of the situation, but Daphne cut him off before he could continue.

“Yes. But not today,” she corrected, her voice sharp and decisive. “We’ll keep things simple. Draco and Pansy will take the first round. Then Abbott and MacMillan, Granger and Weasley, and finally Patil and Goldstein. Potter and I will handle the final patrol, and we’ll all meet on the platform to make sure there are no issues. Tomorrow, we’ll finalize the schedule for the month.”

She straightened her posture, her hands still firmly placed on the table. “Any questions?”

No one spoke. For a few seconds, the compartment remained silent, the prefects exchanging quick glances before they started to stand, adjusting badges and straightening robes as they made their way to the door.

Ron shot Harry a sympathetic look before leaving, like someone watching a friend head into battle without a shield.

As soon as the last person left and the door clicked shut, Daphne turned slowly to face Harry, her eyes narrowing into an expression he was already starting to recognize as her default look of disdain.

“Just to be clear, Potter,” she began, her voice low and sharp as a blade, her icy blue eyes locked onto his, “just because we’re working together doesn’t mean we have to be friends. You do your job, I’ll do mine. But if I find out you’re abusing your power or trying to undermine everything I’ve built over the past few years, I’ll handle it personally.”

She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing further, her stance firm as if preparing for a duel. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I’m not going to let you ruin it just because you think you’re special.”

She turned sharply, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder before slamming the door behind her, the sound echoing through the now-empty compartment.

Harry stood there for a few seconds, the distant sound of the train speeding along the tracks filling the silence. He tightened his grip on the Head Boy badge pinned to the strap of his jacket, his fingers curling around the cold metal.

He knew this year would be different – but he hadn’t expected it to start with a forced partnership with Daphne Greengrass.

“And here I thought nothing could be more irritating than Malfoy,” he thought, letting out a heavy sigh before standing up to head out for his first patrol.

~HP~

The train arrived at Hogsmeade Station at night, the yellowish lamplights flickering as students squeezed through the corridors, gathering luggage, cages, and forgotten books. The air was surprisingly mild for that time of year, without the biting cold or persistent rain that often marked arrivals at Hogwarts. Instead, there was a light, lively energy in the air, an excited murmur spreading among the students.

Harry and Daphne’s final patrol had been uneventful. To his surprise, she hadn’t made a single snide remark throughout. She remained focused on the tasks, giving quick glances at students who strayed from expected behavior but exchanging barely a few words with him. Harry didn’t know whether that was a good or bad sign, but he decided not to question his luck.

As they were the first to step off the train, along with the other prefects, Harry spotted a familiar figure near the platform. Hagrid, with his lantern swinging next to his gigantic legs, was calling out to the first-year students with his deep, warm voice.

“Hey, Hagrid!” Harry approached the half-giant, smiling as he saw Hagrid’s bearded face light up with recognition. Harry had known Hagrid since before coming to Hogwarts and had always considered him a kind of big, loyal uncle. “How was your summer?”

Hagrid gave Harry a couple of hearty pats on the back that nearly sent him stumbling forward. “Just grand, just grand! Maxime and I traveled the continent,” he said proudly, lifting the lantern as if it were a trophy. “She dragged me off to see some old castles and a forest in France full of unicorns. Beautiful sight.”

Harry laughed. Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons, still seemed to have quite an influence on Hagrid, even after two years of their relationship.

“I heard about you becoming Head Boy,” Hagrid continued, his small eyes gleaming with pride. “Just like your dad. Just hope I don’t have to keep pulling you out of the Forbidden Forest this year.”

They both laughed, and Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest at the familiarity of the exchange.

“Anyway, I gotta go,” Hagrid said, raising his lantern to guide the group of first-years gathered behind him, their wide eyes trying to keep up with his long strides. “See you at dinner!”
“See you later, Hagrid!” Harry called back, waving as the half-giant moved off, the lantern light swinging like a beacon amid the crowd.

When he returned to the group of prefects, he saw that most of the older students had already headed to the carriages. Only a few remained clustered around the train doors, collecting luggage and trying to keep cats and owls under control.

“As agreed,” Daphne said, her clear voice cutting through the background chatter, “we can now go to the welcome dinner. Don’t forget to speak with your Heads of House to get the passwords for your common rooms.” She paused, her eyes briefly scanning the prefects. “Tomorrow, before breakfast, we’ll meet to finalize the patrol schedule for the first month. Dismissed.”

She turned on her heel and walked toward the carriages, her blonde hair bouncing with each precise step, followed closely by the other Slytherins.

Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a tired sigh. He had barely arrived at Hogwarts and already felt the growing irritation that always accompanied his interactions with Daphne Greengrass.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me about her,” Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as they approached one of the carriages. “It would have changed a lot.”

“Like what?” Hermione questioned, raising an eyebrow as she climbed into the carriage. “Let’s be honest, Harry. This might be good for you. Even your dad was Head Boy. Greengrass acts that way because you antagonize her.”

Harry laughed, getting into the carriage behind her. “I antagonize her? She’s hated me since I set foot in Hogwarts.”

Hermione sighed in exasperation, as if she had expected that response. Ron chuckled, taking the seat next to her.

“You’re telling me you never provoked her?” Ron asked, his eyes twinkling with the memory. “Need I remind you of the mouse you put in her stuff during first year?”

Harry grimaced. “I didn’t know she was afraid of mice.”

“And the bucket of paint you dumped on her at the Halloween party in second year?” Hermione retorted, crossing her arms in a judgmental stance.

“That was meant for any Slytherin, not just her,” Harry replied defensively. “And what about when she turned my hair neon orange for a week?”

“That was after you blew up her potion in Slughorn’s class,” Hermione pointed out. “The point is, you’ve always provoked each other. Have you ever considered trying not to?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, the words dying before they reached his lips. He thought for a moment, his eyes drifting to the dark sky outside the carriage.

“No,” he finally replied, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And I never will. But for everyone’s sake, I’ll be as civil as possible. And if she does something, she’ll get it back in kind.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged resigned looks. They knew Harry well enough to realize that once he made up his mind, he rarely changed it.

The carriage started moving along the road leading to the castle, the lights from Hogwarts’ windows already glowing on the horizon.

As Ron and Harry got caught up in conversations about Quidditch and Gryffindor’s chances for the championship that year, Hermione remained quiet, her eyes fixed on the carriage floor. She couldn’t help but wonder what was so deeply rooted in the relationship between Harry and Daphne that made them act like oil and water.

~HP~

The trio passed through the heavy doors of Hogwarts with mixed feelings. The familiar scent of cold stone and melting candles filled Harry’s lungs, bringing back memories of awkward first years, impromptu duels, and laughter echoing through the corridors. He felt a wave of nostalgia as he looked at the grand tapestries and the staircases that seemed to creak in recognition of them. It was strange to think that this would be his final year here, that in a few months, he would be leaving behind the place that had become more than just a school – it had become his home.

“Ah, good, you’re already here,” a familiar voice called, and the three of them turned to see McGonagall approaching with quick steps, the folds of her robes swirling behind her like the wings of a large black bird. “I wanted to speak with you.”

She stopped in front of them, her eyes shining with that unique blend of severity and pride that only McGonagall could manage.

“I want to say I’m pleased that you accepted the position of Head Boy, Mr. Potter,” she said, her sharp gaze locking directly onto Harry’s green eyes.

Harry blinked, surprised. “So I could have refused?”

“Of course,” McGonagall replied, lifting her chin slightly. “We all make choices, Mr. Potter. But it’s important to remember that with this, you also take on responsibilities.” She narrowed her eyes, her mouth forming a thin line. “Your father took on responsibilities when he accepted the badge. I expect you to do the same.”

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of the badge on his chest become more real. “Is there something you need, Professor?”

McGonagall relaxed her posture slightly, her arms falling to her sides, though her eyes still scrutinized every detail. “You and Miss Greengrass will need to make a speech to all the students after the Sorting Ceremony,” she said, her tone firm but tinged with a hint of expectation. “It’s something Professor Dumbledore and I thought would be a good idea. A way to inspire the new students and demonstrate the importance of leadership.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it. It wasn’t wise to challenge McGonagall without being ready for the consequences. Still, he couldn’t hide the discomfort he felt at the thought of sharing a speech with Daphne.

“I just don’t get why I have to work with her,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

McGonagall gave him a look that seemed to hide a spark of amusement. “Your father asked me the same thing when I made him Head Boy alongside your mother. And look where we are now.” She gave him a rare, subtle wink.

Harry grimaced in disgust. “If you think Greengrass and I are ever going to have anything like that, you’re very mistaken. She’s petty, annoying, a know-it-all who thinks she’s better than everyone else. She acts like everyone else is beneath her. I’d rather kiss a troll than have anything to do with her.”

“And I’d rather be surrounded by dementors than have any kind of friendship with you, Potter,” a sharp voice cut in from behind him.

Harry turned around, his eyes widening as he saw Daphne standing there, arms crossed and her expression as cold as the surface of a frozen lake in December. She raised an eyebrow in disdain, the Head Girl badge on her chest gleaming like a challenge.

Harry’s hand shot up reflexively, his middle finger almost springing up before he managed to stop himself, catching the warning look from McGonagall.

“Mr. Potter, I will not tolerate that kind of behavior,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. “You’re a Head Boy now. Act like it.”

Harry felt his ears heat up, but he kept his mouth shut.

McGonagall gave them both a final, meaningful look before turning and disappearing through a side door, where the murmurs of the new students grew louder.

Daphne took a step closer, her eyes still fixed on Harry as if daring him to respond.

“Just to be clear, Potter,” she began, her tone low and venomous, “I’m the one speaking in the speech. You’re not capable of coming up with something like that.”

Harry stared at her, incredulous. “McGonagall said we need to do it together,” he shot back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Why should you be the only one talking?”

Daphne let out a short, humorless laugh. “Because I’m the smarter one, obviously,” she replied, as if explaining something to a child. “At best, I’ll let you handle the ‘Have a great year’ part.”

Before he could think of a sharp comeback, she turned on her heel and headed for the Great Hall, her blonde hair moving with the precise elegance that seemed to be part of her very nature.

Harry stood there for a second, his heart beating fast in his chest, anger simmering at the back of his throat.

“If this keeps up, I’ll end up throwing myself off the Astronomy Tower by the end of the year,” he muttered, exhaling forcefully.

Ron and Hermione, who had remained silent until now, exchanged a quick glance before bursting into laughter.

Harry turned to them, his face red. “And I don’t want to hear either of you laughing.”

They tried to stifle their giggles, but as soon as he turned to follow Daphne, the laughter broke out again, echoing down the stone corridor. Harry quickened his pace, trying to ignore them, but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his own lips.

As annoying as Daphne was, there was something strangely refreshing about having someone who wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him.

~HP~

The Great Hall was decorated as usual when the trio entered – floating candles scattered like stars between the long tables, the enchanted ceiling above accurately reflecting the constellations shining outside. Harry felt a wave of nostalgia as he looked up, remembering his first time in this very place. Heart racing, eyes wide, hesitant steps – all from six years ago. His parents had never given him many details about Hogwarts before he started, perhaps to avoid spoiling the surprise, or maybe because some things only make sense when seen with one’s own eyes.

They made their way between the tables, exchanging quick nods with classmates. Harry passed by Amelia, seated at the Ravenclaw table with her friends. She shot him a significant look, her lips curving slightly as if to say, “Can we meet later?” but he quickly looked away. He wasn’t in the mood for that right now.

They took seats near the middle of the Gryffindor table, where Seamus, Dean, and Neville were already sitting. Seamus and Dean looked almost exactly the same, laughing and jabbing each other, but Neville was a completely different sight – taller, with broad shoulders and strong arms visible beneath his robes. He looked like he had spent the summer lifting cauldrons.

“Hannah told me everything,” Neville said as soon as Harry settled in. “You and Greengrass, huh? Not something you see every day.”

Harry let out an exasperated sigh, reaching for a piece of bread from the basket in front of him. “Me and Greengrass? Please,” he replied, his teeth clenching as he tore the bread a bit too forcefully. “It’s just work, nothing more.”

The table erupted in laughter, some of his housemates poking him in the ribs, others exchanging knowing glances.

Before he could retort, the doors of the hall creaked open with a solemn groan, and the buzz of conversation died instantly. The new students began to file in, many of them wide-eyed and pale as they tried to absorb the grandeur of the hall, the floating candles, and the dozens of curious faces watching them.

Harry leaned back slightly on the bench, his eyes following the group of first-years moving slowly behind McGonagall, who led them with firm steps to the front of the staff table, where the old Sorting Hat rested on its worn stool.

For a moment, the hall fell into complete silence, the candle flames flickering as everyone waited for the hat to move, the old seam that formed its mouth twitching slightly before it opened, its raspy voice echoing through the hall:

“Welcome, young witches and wizards,
To the school where your fates are bound,
Leave behind your fears and blizzards,
For here, each house is its own crown.

Gryffindor, for the brave at heart,
Where the courageous seek their fame,
They face danger, play their part,
And carve their place into the game.

Hufflepuff, of the loyal and true,
Who never flee from the hardest fight,
Whose kindness always shines through,
And whose spirits burn ever bright.

Ravenclaw, for the wise and keen,
Who seek the truth at any cost,
With minds sharp and eyes so keen,
Masters of knowledge, never lost.

And Slytherin, for the cunning and sly,
Who shape their fate with iron will,
Whose minds are sharp as the daggers they hide,
And whose ambition drives them still.

But remember this, young witches and wizards,
That a choice is more than a simple name,
It reflects your deepest, truest desires,
And the fire that forever fuels your flame.

So fear not the choice I make,
For it is not your fate I decide,
But the voice in your hearts that speaks,
The path you’ve always held inside.

So come forth, don’t hesitate, don’t cower,
Let me see what you truly are,
For Hogwarts is more than walls and towers,
It is the home of every star.”

The hall erupted into applause as the hat finished its song, the tables buzzing as students leaned in to whisper to each other. McGonagall stepped forward, pulling a small parchment from the inner pocket of her robes, her eyes scanning the nervous faces of the first-years huddled in front of the stool.

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron and Hermione, feeling the familiar tingle of anticipation that always marked the beginning of a new school year. But this time, there was something more – a nearly palpable tension, as if this year promised to be more unpredictable, more challenging than any they had faced before.

One by one, the new students were sorted into their respective houses. Some barely had the Sorting Hat touch their heads before being sent off to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, while others seemed to wrestle internally, their faces tense as the old hat whispered in their minds. Harry found himself smiling, remembering his own Sorting – the strange sensation of the rough fabric brushing his hair and the hat’s whispering voice telling him he could be great... in Slytherin.

Harry shuddered at the thought. Him? In Slytherin? It was like imagining Hagrid hosting a tea party with French aristocrats. Ridiculous. And, worse, it would have meant spending even more time around people like Malfoy... and Greengrass. The thought made him grip the Head Boy badge on his robes, his fingers tightening around the cold metal.

A burst of applause pulled him from his dark thoughts, and he refocused on the center of the hall, where the last first-year had just been sorted into Ravenclaw – a small, blonde boy who looked like he might faint from relief. McGonagall collected the stool and the Sorting Hat, rising with her usual dignity before disappearing through the side door that led to the staff room.

The murmurs around the hall began to grow again, but quickly fell silent as Dumbledore rose to his feet, his long fingers clasped in front of him, blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses. He waited patiently for the hall to quiet down, the silence spreading like a wave through the room.

“Welcome, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts,” he began, his calm but firm voice echoing off the stone walls. “I have just a few announcements before we begin our traditional feast.”

He paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the sea of expectant faces.

“Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the updated list of prohibited items is, as always, posted on the door of his office. It seems that this year he’s added a few new products from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, among other things, but I sincerely hope none of these will dampen your fun.”

The hall erupted in laughter and applause, particularly at the Gryffindor table, where Seamus and Dean exchanged playful punches and muffled laughs.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes lingering on Harry for a moment, and Harry felt his ears grow slightly warm.

“And, naturally,” the headmaster continued, “I must remind everyone – especially a few of our more experienced students,” he paused, his eyes still fixed on Harry, “that the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, forbidden.”

More laughter, some clapping, and even a few whistles echoed through the hall. Harry lowered his head, trying not to laugh himself.

“And, finally,” Dumbledore said, raising his hand to quiet the hall once more, “I would like to invite our new Head Students, Miss Daphne Greengrass and Mr. Harry Potter, to say a few words.”

The hall fell into silence again, hundreds of heads turning simultaneously toward the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. Harry felt his stomach twist. He hadn’t exactly planned anything, and from the look Daphne shot him as she stood, she didn’t seem too thrilled with the idea either.

They met in the center of the hall, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor as the floating candles bathed them in a soft, flickering light. Harry could feel the eyes of the teachers boring into his back, especially McGonagall’s, who watched him with a mixture of expectation and sternness.

Daphne spoke first, her eyes sweeping over the tables with the cold confidence of someone who had spent her life being trained to act like royalty.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” she began, her voice clear and controlled. “For many of you, this is just another year in a long journey. For others, it’s the beginning of something completely new. Hogwarts is more than just a school – it’s a place where you will grow, face challenges, and, hopefully, discover who you truly are.”

She paused, her eyes drifting to the Slytherin table, where Pansy Parkinson watched her with thinly veiled admiration, while Malfoy kept his face carefully blank.

“But for that to happen,” Daphne continued, her eyes moving to the Gryffindor table, where Harry could feel his friends’ eyes on him, “there must be respect, discipline, and above all, responsibility. As Head Students, it’s our job to make sure every student has the opportunity to reach their full potential. And we hope you’ll rise to that challenge.”

She stepped back, casting a quick glance at Harry, as if to say, “Good luck, you’re on your own now.”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling the weight of all the eyes on him.

“As Greengrass said,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, “Hogwarts is more than just a school. It’s a home. And like any home, it demands that we take care of it, that we look out for the people around us, and that we try our best.”

He glanced quickly at the Gryffindor table, catching the expectant faces of Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and Neville.

“So, my only promise to you is that I’ll do my best to make this year unforgettable. I hope you’ll all do the same.”

He stepped back, exchanging a quick look with Daphne. She rolled her eyes slightly, but he caught the faintest hint of approval in her expression – almost imperceptible, but it was there.

Dumbledore clapped, and the entire hall erupted in applause, the sound reverberating off the stone walls as the two returned to their seats.

Harry let out a slow breath as he sat down, his heart still pounding but with a slight sense of relief. He had no idea what this year would bring, but one thing was certain – it wouldn’t be ordinary.

“All right, mate?” Ron asked beside him, leaning in as he served himself a generous helping of mashed potatoes. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Harry shook his head, a smile escaping as he reached for a chicken drumstick that had just appeared magically in front of him, the warm, tempting aroma filling the air. “No, it wasn’t that bad,” he replied, taking the first bite and feeling the familiar taste that always made him feel at home.

He looked around, the laughter of his friends echoing through the hall, the candlelight floating above their heads, the distant clinking of plates and clashing of goblets.

This, without a doubt, was going to be a completely different year.