Here's another one. I forgot to say this for the last two, so here goes: I don't own Harry Potter.
Rule 17. Seamus Finnegan is not "after me Lucky Charms."
The sixth-year watched excitedly as his snowy owl, Hedwig, flew into the Great Hall at breakfast, bearing with her a short, thin parcel. The owl swooped over the Gryffindor table, dropping the brown package above Harry's general location. It landed half in the pile of hotcakes and half in the pitcher of pumpkin juice. The juice tipped over, splashing everywhere and splattering the young Gryffindors with orange liquid.
"Blimey, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, jumping backward in shock and almost falling off the bench. "Can't you control that bird? I told you rats were better!"
Harry gave the ginger a sharp look as he grabbed his napkin and tried to sponge the sticky juice off his robes. "Not your rat," he muttered, raising an eyebrow at his friend.
"What's in the package anyway?" he asked, picking up the wet parcel with as few fingers as possible.
"I'll tell you in the dorm room," Harry whispered, sneaking a glance down the table where Seamus Finnegan was in an intense conversation with Dean Thomas about the best ways to blow objects up and act like it was unintentional. He looked back at Ron, who had followed his gaze. "Let's go."
Harry mopped up the leftover pumpkin juice on the parcel with his napkin, then slipped it under his robes and stood up, walking out of the Great Hall with Ron on his tail. They ran up the magical stairs and through the portrait hole. They slowed down through the common room so as not to attract curious attention from the students in the room. Unnecessary attention, Harry thought quietly.
Once in the dorm room, Harry wiped off the light sheen of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead during their slight running escapade. He sat unceremoniously on the bed, calming his slightly ragged breathing.
"Alright, mate," Ron whispered, looking intently at the package on Harry's lap. "What's so important that you couldn't speak of it in the Great Hall? Is it something dark? Something that'll help you defeat You-Know-Who? Did Dumbledore send you something? Is it one of those whats-its—Horcruxes? Is it—"
Harry cut him off. "Ron." The ginger closed his mouth. "No. It's got nothing to do with Voldemort." Ron winced, his usual reaction to the Dark Wizard's name.
Harry pulled the package into his hands, carefully pulling on the twine ties and tearing apart the brown paper. He triumphantly held up a box. The image on the front depicted some kind of food in a bowl, along with a small cartoon man dressed in all green with a shamrock on his hat.
"Is that… Don't tell me those are ingredients for a potion. What are you planning to make this time, Harry?" Ron demanded, confused.
Harry almost laughed. "Ron. It's cereal! A Muggle breakfast food!"
Ron looked confused. "Oh." He looked closer at the box. "Dad tried to get us to eat something similar to that for breakfast once. Ginny had a fit," he laughed, his blue eyes lost in the memory. "That was the last time Dad tried to bring home anything Muggle for breakfast." Ron looked back at the box. "What's that called? Lucky Charms? Why couldn't you just open the box in the Great Hall."
"Seamus," Harry answered, unashamed. "He's Irish, so you never know. I secretly suspect he'll be 'after me Lucky Charms.'" The last bit came out in an impressively accurate imitation of the other boy's accent.
"Come on, Harry. I doubt Seamus would go after something that's yours," Ron scoffed, laughing at Harry's impression of the sandy-haired boy. "Even if he is Irish. He's your friend. He even joined Dumbledore's Army with us."
Harry shot him a suspicious look. "I know. But he's Irish. He's 'after me Lucky Charms.'"
From that moment on, Harry was extraordinarily careful around one Seamus Finnegan. The Lucky Charms, when they weren't carefully locked away in his trunk, were carried around under his robes or in his schoolbag. He was uncharacteristically suspicious, and was beginning to get weird looks for it. People had begun to almost avoid him.
"Harry. Seriously," Hermione hissed halfway through Transfiguration one afternoon. "Grow up."
For once, Ron agreed with her. "Seriously, mate. It's ridiculous. He's not after your bloody cereal."
And then, of course, it had come to Seamus's attention that Harry was ignoring him. And a week later, after Charms, the Irish boy confronted Harry himself.
"What's going on, Harry? Why are you acting like this?" Seamus demanded, his hand on his wand.
"No, mate, it's nothing." Nonchalant. Unconvincing.
Seamus looked back at him suspiciously. "That's bloody wonderful," Seamus laughed, his tone harsh and sarcastic. "Tell me the truth. Honestly now. You won't even be in the dorm room with me if I'm awake, but you won't let me out of your sight. What are you hiding? I'm on your team, mate. We were in Dumbledore's Army together. We're fighting on the same team."
Harry searched the boy's eyes before relenting. "Fine, I… I guess you have a right to know." He unbuttoned his cloak slowly, revealing a red box that was being held fast under his arm. "This," Harry muttered, holding out the box of Lucky Charms.
"And you're hiding your cereal from me why?" Seamus seemed about to laugh.
"Aren't you 'after me Lucky Charms'?" Harry asked, ready to snatch the box back at a moment's notice.
Seamus guffawed loudly. "You can have your Lucky Charms, mate! I'm not going to take your food, even if I am Irish," he exclaimed, pounding a fist on Harry's back. "Your imitation of my accent was brilliant, though!" Seamus was smiling brightly now.
"You're not 'after me Lucky Charms'?" Distrustful.
"Of course not. Eat your cereal, you daft numpty!"
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