Chapter 359: Hermes: You Hit Me with Fiendfyre? [bonus]
Back in the dormitory after dinner, Cuthbert flopped onto his bed and grabbed a copy of Quidditch Season Review from the nightstand. He made it through a few pages before yawning.
Alex sat at his desk organizing notes, quill dipping into ink, copying line after line.
Hermes perched on the edge of his bed, wand resting across his knees, polishing it with a square of velvet in slow, mechanical strokes. His gaze had gone somewhere else entirely.
Baruk had just finished his meat and lay sprawled in the fireplace.
Term had only been back a few days, and Regulus wasn't rushing to the Room of Requirement.
It wasn't as though he'd ever dragged them to practice. He went, and they followed. That was how it worked.
The first days of term were always busy. The professors had their hands full, and his own schedule was no quieter.
News of the Christmas banquet had traveled the entire holiday. Everyone who needed to know, knew. The ripple effects were still spreading.
The Black family's door wasn't easy to knock on. Outsiders couldn't simply attach themselves. Family to family, the thresholds were high, the channels few. You needed a pretext, comparable standing, the right intermediary.