Pottervor
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And at this moment Dumbledore clinks a fork against his glasses, and the Great Hall falls silent.

"Good evening! I hope you have all had a splendid first few weeks!

"Now, I have an announcement. It is an old rule that first years cannot join Quidditch teams. This rule dates from when Quidditch games—and being a wizard, in general—were much more dangerous than they are nowadays. So, I say, it is time to get rid of this rule!"

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Draco drops his fork.

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"It is still the case that first years are less experienced and skilled, however, so before you're allowed to try out Madam Hooch will need to clear you. If you're interested, talk to her, and talk to your House's team captain. They will be able to tell you what you'll need to do.

"That was all. Bon appetit!"

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And now Draco is the embodiment of "if looks could kill."

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Happily, they cannot. Victor eats his dinner.

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Conversation's dominated by firsties who want to try out and arguing about which position they'd be best at and whatnot. They're still talking about it by the time they've gotten back to the common room.

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It's kind of nice.

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Soon they start going to bed.

And there's still no sign of Neville.

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...that isn't good.

Victor, with Muninn on his shoulder, goes down to check the portrait in case Neville is stuck on the other side.

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No Neville visible.

...although there's suspicious sniffling coming from around that corner.

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Oh dear. He investigates.

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There's Neville, who starts when he sees Victor. "I thought you were Filch. Oh did you let the portrait close—" Yep. Slump. "I forgot the password, and the Fat Lady went out..."

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"The password's 'pig snout'."

He contemplates the portraitless portrait.

"I suppose we should wait for her..."

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"Yeah... She didn't say when she was coming back though."

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Hmm...

"Muninn," he says, "can you find her and tell her there are students stuck in the corridor?"

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The raven takes off from his shoulder.

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He looks down at his lap and stays quiet.

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Victor sits next to him.

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They hear something.

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What sort of a something.

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...appears to be a feline something.

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...that could be good or bad...

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That cat rounding the corner looks a lot like Filch's cat.

It mrrows.

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...he really wishes Muninn would come back right now.

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