Harry Potter sat in the Great Hall, staring gloomily down at a picture of a giant radish eating a horse. He was bored. Horribly, horribly bored.
A bat flittered past and he watched it, miserably, knowing that it didn't have to do transfiguration homework. Or go to lessons. Or have detentions.
He turned back to his work. Above his head, the bat tried to eat the Spotted Grammock and got electrocuted.
His pocket whistled.
"What's the matter, then?" Asked a voice from behind them, and Colin Creevey, dragging a dreamily protesting Luna Lovegood, stopped, turned, and stared at Harry Potter.
"Wow, you really do have psychic powers, don't you?" Said Colin, looking up at him.
"What?"
"I always knew it was true. Is it something to do with being struck with that curse as a baby, or is it just inherited?"
"Wha - "
"I suppose you wouldn't know, what with being an orphan, and everything…"
"Colin, my Rota told me."
"Oh."
"Now, what's the problem?"